


Blue Sky Mercantile

by copykatniss



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-05-03 10:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5287661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copykatniss/pseuds/copykatniss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peeta Mellark has always dreamed of opening his own business to sell the vintage items he loves to collect. He knows just the place for his retro mercantile, too. It's not a pawnshop, he insists, but he can't resist buying an old gold pin off the beautiful stranger with the spellbinding gray eyes. How will he gain her trust and learn more about this elusive woman and the heirloom Mockingjay pin?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to resist, but there is something about writing up these little stories that I find so relaxing. As always, please forgive any mistakes. I write the chapters quickly and I edit myself. And thank you, thank you for reading. It makes writing the story ten times more fun when I know someone is reading it. I hope you enjoy.

Peeta switches gears on his hybrid bicycle, pumping a little harder until he crests the next hill. This is his favorite bike path in Panem, taking him from his parents’ bakery in the historic district all the way through downtown and out through the suburbs to the area that borders the woods, known as The Seam. 

It’s peaceful out here on the last leg of the trail, which runs along just beside a group of run down Seam houses, the train track bordering the other side. Peeta fixes his gaze on the wide creek that sits on the other side of the train track and beyond that the tree line where filtered sunlight disappears entirely into dark wood. It’s calming, as nature often is, and he smiles to himself as a puff of breeze cools him momentarily. 

The sound of a barking dog turns his attention to his right, where rows of dilapidated houses have been pieced together with whatever materials could be found. Here and there are broken down cars, laundry strung out to dry on a line, or groups of small children playing ball on this day off from school. 

He’s nearing the end of the six mile bike trail now, past the Seam and now with a view of a prospering farm to his right, the train track and the woods still to his left. Up ahead is his destination point; the place he always turns around. It’s the abandoned shell of a former gas station, now empty and the pumps long gone. The flat, gray concrete walls have been covered in graffiti and looters broke the windows out long ago. 

Peeta knows there’s nothing inside now, because he’s peered into the windows many times. From the very first time he came upon this place, he’s dreamed of fixing it up and turning it into his very own vintage goods store. Since he was a kid he has always loved collecting old things—from antique gumball machines to tools that were used 50 years ago and have long since been replaced by machines. This old building near the end of his favorite bike trail seems like the perfect place to house his collection, and sell the pieces he’s willing to part with in order to procure even more items, and perpetuate his hobby. 

For Peeta, it’s all about the find. He loves the old things he brings home, but he loves the hunt even more. He frequently spends his Saturday mornings shopping the local yard sales to find his treasures, and sometimes he drives to neighboring towns to attend the auctions where he can usually pick up an interesting piece or two. 

It’s a hobby that, unfortunately, his parents can’t understand. And as many times as they’ve berated him about it being a worthless endeavor, he knows they will really flip their lid when he tells them of his latest plan: he’s going to buy that old building and open his own shop.   
He has it all planned out: he’ll re-do the inside, all in sky blue with accents of red. It will have a retro theme, to go with most of the items he tends to collect. But it won’t just be a store for buying vintage collectibles; Peeta plans to have a small seating area and sell coffee and other beverages, along with an assortment of baked goods. 

He wants it to be a place people feel comfortable coming to just to hang out. Maybe they will stop for a quick rest when they’re out riding the bike trail, or perhaps they’ll stop in on their way to and from the next town over. 

It may be a long shot that his business will even take off, but it’s always been Peeta’s dream and he plans to give it his best shot. He’s still daydreaming about the mural he’ll paint all along the outside cement wall when he turns his bike back toward home. 

………..

2 years later

Business has been slow, but steady, and Peeta is proud that his first year open as Blue Sky Mercantile has been a success. It took him a while, of course, to get the building renovated, but it’s now a perfect manifestation of all his careful plans. 

The mural of a sunny, flower filled meadow he painted on the outside wall is the first thing to come into view as he reaches the top of the hill on his bike each day. He loves that he can ride his bike to work, and then spend all day doing what he loves most. His dream job is a reality. Peeta pushes aside the nagging voice in his head (his mothers) that tells him he will fail; go bankrupt and have to start all over. For now, it’s more than he ever dreamed. 

He unlocks the front door, glancing appreciatively at the careful block lettering arranged there spelling out Blue Sky Mercantile, and the lone bright yellow dandelion that has become his company logo. Inside, the walls are painted a bright blue, much like the sky on a cloudless summer day. Old-fashioned wooden shelving pairs with ceramic countertops and red faux-leather furniture to give the space a clean, retro feel. 

Displayed all around the shop are vintage items for sale: sofas, table sets, clocks, even an old arcade game. Just behind the counter where the cash register sits, Peeta has hung some of his own collectibles, not for sale, including a 1920s bicycle resplendent in red and white and chrome. At the edge of the counter, Peeta has mounted his favorite old gumball machine, one of his very first vintage purchases. A little dish sitting next to it supplies pennies that children may use to help themselves to a gumball. 

Tucked in a corner is a cozy spot with leather couches and chairs, low shelves and coffee tables filled with books for browsing. A glass display case will soon hold a small selection of fresh baked goods from Peeta’s family’s bakery, which his brother delivers each morning. Nearby a cappuccino maker and coffee maker allow Peeta to provide a selection of coffee, iced and hot, to those who wish to enjoy a quiet morning. 

He didn’t forget those who might stop in during a long bike ride, either. Just inside the front door, to the left and nearest the seating area, two large cases hold cold drinks and frozen novelty items for sale, respectively. 

Peeta sets his backpack behind the counter and gets to work readying the shop for a busy Saturday. The weekends are always a lot more busy than the weekdays, because that’s when many people are out on the bike trail, or passing by in their car as they take the nearby main road out of town. 

During the week, he tends to get more serious vintage collectors, stopping in to see what he has recently acquired. And recently, people have even started to bring him items he might be interested in buying for resale. 

He’s just dusting off his most recent find—a pair of 1930s soda fountain stools—when he hears a rap at the door. It’s his brother, Rye, delivering fresh baked goods for Peeta to sell. 

“What’s up baby brother?” Rye says as Peeta holds the door open for him. Rye is balancing two large metal trays, each filled with scones, turnovers, muffins and other Mellark Bakery pastries. Peeta takes the trays from Rye, one at a time, and slides them into the display case. 

“The usual,” Peeta replies, offering an easy smile. “How are things at the bakery?”

“Oh you know,” says Rye. “The new girl burned a batch of cookies this morning, Dad tried to cover for her and Mom blew a gasket. The usual.”

“How many does that make now?” Peeta asks, a smirk gracing his usually gentle features. 

“That we’ve hired to replace you in the bakery?” Rye asks, but Peeta knows it’s not really a question. “Let’s see, six new assistants in a year; all of them gone before Mom could fire them herself.”

“Do you blame them?” Peeta mutters, turning to close up the display case.

Rye lets out a short bark of laughter and replies, “I’ll be out of there myself as soon as I can save up enough to move across country. So no, can’t say I blame them at all.”

Rye is leaning on the countertop, drumming his fingers lazily, but he straightens his position now, preparing to leave. “Speaking of,” he says, “I better get on back before Mom freaks out. She hates that I deliver all the way out here to you, but she’d never turn down the profit.”

Peeta gives him a wry smile, holding the door open for him on his way out. “See ya tomorrow Rye,” he says as his older brother gives him a short wave and jumps back into the bakery truck. 

Once Rye is gone, Peeta turns back to the vintage bar stools and contemplates what price he should put on them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd post a quick second chapter since we didn't see Katniss in the first one...

The first time she comes into the store it’s a Friday. It’s not as busy as it would be on a Saturday, but it’s lunchtime and there’s enough of a crowd that Peeta only just glimpses her coming through the door as he helps another customer to a cranberry scone from the small display of baked goods. 

Several customers are queued up in line to purchase a cold drink from the case, and others mill about the shop, asking Peeta questions about particular items once in a while. He watches as she makes her way slowly around the small shop, looking over the items one by one. He’s trying not to stare, but she is easily the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on. 

She’s petite, but shapely, in faded jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Her long dark hair is gathered in a simple braid that trails over her shoulder, exposing the smooth, olive skin of her neck. But it’s her eyes, when she glances over to him and he catches them for just a moment, that mesmerize him. They are a blend of army green and steel gray, with a flash of silver that would rival the stars in the sky on a clear, dark night. 

He realizes he’s been staring at the mystery woman too long when the customer standing in front of him clears her throat. Peeta smiles contritely at the older woman and bags up the bottled water and vintage desk lamp she is purchasing. When he finishes the transaction, he looks up just in time to see the long, dark braid disappearing out the front door. 

….

She comes back the next Tuesday, and Peeta feels his breath catch in his throat when he sees her walk through the door. She glances at him quickly, a slight grimace on her face, and then turns her eyes to the floor and makes her way to the other side of the store. She’s perusing some of the mid-century modern dishes when he finally gets up the nerve to approach her. 

“Looking for anything in particular?” he asks. Suddenly he has no idea what to do with his hands, so he shoves them into his pants pockets for lack of a better idea. She grants him the briefest of glances and shakes her head, no. 

“Okay, well, let me know if I can answer any questions you have, or help you with anything…” Peeta trails off, his voice sounding nervous even to his own ears. He walks away, back to the front of the store, near the bakery case. He’s rearranging the last of the days baked goods when her voice startles him. 

“Do you, um…where do you get the items…the things that you sell here?” she asks. She’s looking at him, but it’s as if she’s staring right through him. Her face is void of emotion, even when he smiles at her in response to her question. 

Peeta gestures around the store, “I find a lot at yard sales, estate sales and auctions—things like that.” He’s about to go on, to tell her about how he’s been collecting for years; about his passion for finding the items, when she makes an indignant sound and speaks up again. 

“So you just go out and buy these things on the cheap and then mark them up to way more than their worth and sell them here?” she accuses. Her voice is sharp with displeasure. 

“No—I—it’s not like that. It’s more about the find,” Peeta struggles to explain. Normally he’s talented with words, able to persuade or enchant whoever’s listening, but now he falters. “They’re collectibles,” he continues. “and I find…I try to find the right person for each item. Or the right item for each person.” Peeta groans at his inability to articulate the purpose of his store. The woman is clearly not impressed. 

She gives a little sigh and shrugs her shoulders. “So it’s not a second-hand store.” She says it as a statement more than a question. 

Silence fills the space between them for what seems like several long minutes, but it actually probably less than thirty seconds. Finally Peeta speaks up. 

“Can I interest you in a pastry?” he asks, gesturing to what’s left in the display case. 

“No,” she replies, quickly and firmly. But Peeta catches the wistful way she glances at the scones and tarts before her eyes quickly dart away. 

“Are you sure? There’s no charge. They don’t sell very well this late in the day and they’ll only go to waste,” he tells her. 

At this she glances at him suspiciously, and then back to the display case, as if contemplating taking him up on his offer. Peeta slides open the case and bags up a cranberry-orange scone and a few of the oatmeal-raisin cookies. “Here,” he says, holding the bag out toward her. “On the house.”

She hesitates; blinks those incredible eyes and seems even more annoyed with him, if possible. “I can’t,” is all she says and then she turns and is out the door before he can protest. Her braid swings like a pendulum across her straight, narrow back as she stalks away, her hands fisted at her side.


	3. Chapter 3

Peeta zips his faded backpack shut, throwing it over his shoulder and swiping his keys off the table in the entry hall of his modest bungalow home. It’s just six o’clock in the morning, but if he wants to catch the best finds at the yard sales this Saturday, he needs to be among the first there. 

Although he’d prefer to ride his bike and combine his quest with some exercise, he can cover more ground using the truck. Plus he’ll need the truck to carry back anything he finds. 

The first yard sale he hits is advertised as an estate sale—usually a goldmine of vintage goods—but it turns out to be a total bust. Apparently the homeowners have confused the term ‘moving sale’ with ‘estate sale’ because most of the items consist of slightly used baby gear and lawn furniture. 

Peeta moves on to a neighborhood sale, where he drives slowly past the houses participating, scanning the yards for potential items. It’s a nicer neighborhood, but a particularly run-down home catches his eye when he notes several large pieces of antique-looking furniture out on the lawn for sale. He pulls over and parks the truck a little way down the street. 

The furniture is indeed old, but none of it is particularly interesting so Peeta moves on to another part of the yard where the owner has put out an impressively sized record collection. He’s flipping through covers that include a wide of array of artists—Willie Nelson, Duke Ellington and early Elton John—when he spots her. 

It’s the woman with the braid, who was in his store the other day, and she’s rifling through a box marked “Household Goods—50 cents,” pulling out the odd unmatched plate, or box of shower curtain rings. Peeta watches as her face lights up when she pulls out a set of three melamine mixing bowls, the smaller ones nested within the larger one. 

“Excuse me,” she says, turning toward the homeowner. Peeta lowers his head, looking at the record collection again. He hears her say, “Is it 50 cents for all three?” and then, to the homeowners apparently negative response, “Will you take a dollar for all three, then?”

Peeta chances a look back over to where she is haggling with the homeowner. Today she’s wearing forest green pants with large pockets on the sides, and a black tank top that drapes over her slender frame. Her hair is twisted back into the single braid again and she plays with the end that dangles over her left shoulder. 

Peeta watches as she hands the homeowner a single dollar bill in exchange for the set of bowls. It’s not until she turns to walk away that she sees Peeta, and they briefly lock eyes before he flits his away, pretending to be indifferent. He studies the records for several more moments, not even really seeing the covers as he flips through the collection, before he finally heads back to his car. 

…

Peeta is sitting behind the counter at the store later that afternoon, deep in thought during a rare lull in customers on what has been an incredibly busy day. He can’t seem to shake the image of the woman with the braid. Her words from the other day when she came to the store echo back to him, “So you just go out and buy these things on the cheap and then mark them up…”

She had seemed repulsed by the entire concept of his vintage collectibles store. She had thought it was—what?—a secondhand discount store. And then today when he saw her she was visibly pleased to find the mixing bowls at the yard sale. But they weren’t anything special; they weren’t even that old, and even from the short distance Peeta had been standing, he could see that they were faded and likely not high quality to begin with. The best he could say about them is that they might be useful to someone in need of mixing bowls. 

And then it hits him. Useful. Needed. This woman with the enchanting eyes isn’t shopping for pleasure, or even industry, the way Peeta searches the yard sales and auctions each week; she is searching for things she actually needs.

….

He runs into her a few more times over the next several months, always at the random yard sale early on a Saturday morning. She never comes into his store again. 

When they see each other at a yard sale, he always averts his eyes right away. It might have something to do with the glare she directs at him each time. He does notice she is always shopping for basic necessities: old sheets, an umbrella, garden tools. 

Then one day, when Peeta is out riding on the bike trail, headed toward his store, he sees her coming out of the woods on the other side of the tracks, near the Seam. She’s carrying a large, weathered bag and wearing an oversized leather jacket with her faded jeans. He slows down on his bike, trying not to be obvious, but curious to know what she was doing in the woods. He guesses she is headed back to the Seam; back to her home.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter should really get the story rolling. I hope you enjoy!

The winter is cold, and long. Peeta sells hot chocolate again, once the weather turns chilly. And he sells out of the heavy, colorful 1930s Faribault wool blankets he found at an estate sale last summer. 

Overall his sales are steady, with a bit of an upturn just before the holidays. But with the colder weather he no longer has the opportunity to replenish items at yard sales and auctions, and he’s left with a lot of extra time on his hands. He decides to set up his easel right in the store so he can paint during long afternoon lulls. 

It’s late on a Tuesday afternoon and Peeta has already finished painting the mostly bare trees at the edge of the woods, the brown and orange and red leaves scattered on the ground. Carefully, using the edge of his thinnest brush, he paints in the ebony plait of a single braid hanging over the shoulder of a young woman emerging from the woods. He has yet to find the right mix of colors to define her eyes. 

When the same young woman from the painting pushes open the door to his store he doesn’t look up immediately, but moves to set his brush to the side while calling over his shoulder, “Hello! I’ll be right with you.”

There is no response, but when he turns to fully acknowledge his customer, he startles to find that it’s her. Her eyes are still just as mesmerizing, her face still just as intriguing—but she’s much thinner than the last time he saw her, her slender frame now seeming almost emancipated. 

Peeta swallows thickly and clears his throat. “How can I help you?” he asks, his voice friendly but slightly nervous. 

Her eyes dart around the store, making note that there are no other customers around. Then the brief glimpse of insecurity he saw disappears from her face and she sets her jaw in what seems to be resolve. She pulls a small golden object from her jacket pocket and lays it on the counter in front of Peeta.

“What’s this?” he asks softly. 

“I thought you might buy it for resale,” she replies. Peeta’s eyebrows rise slightly, and he reaches for the object, examining it. It’s a pin, such as you might affix to your collar, shaped like a bird with wings spread and encircled in a ring. The entire piece is solid gold, or at least seems to be, based on appearance and the weight of it in Peeta’s hand. 

“My grandmother called it a Mockingjay,” she continues. “She said it brings luck, and…protection.” 

Peeta sets the golden pin back on the counter. “It’s beautiful,” he says. He looks at her for a moment and then adds, “I’m sorry; we’ve seen each other several times now and we don’t even know one another’s name. I’m Peeta, by the way.”

“Katniss,” she says quietly, her eyes still on the Mockingjay pin that sits on the counter between them. 

“Well Katniss, it’s nice to meet you,” Peeta says. “I’d love to hear more about this pin. It was your grandmothers you say?”

Katniss nods and reaches for the end of her dark braid, twisting it absently. 

Peeta doesn’t really need the Mockingjay pin—he doesn’t typically buy clothing or jewelry for resale—but he doesn’t want Katniss to leave. She has intrigued him since the moment he first saw her last summer, so he makes a spur of the moment decision. 

“Would you mind, um, hanging out here for a bit while I research the pin a little?” he hedges, gesturing toward the seating section beyond the baked good display. Katniss hesitates, but in the end she walks over to one of the couches and perches on the edge. 

Quickly, as if he might scare her away at any second, Peeta steps behind the hot beverage station and begins to prepare two cups of tea. Sliding open the display case, he takes out two cheese buns and pops them into the small microwave nearby. In a minute, he’s placing the items on the coffee table in front of Katniss, next to his laptop. 

“Do you like sugar and milk in your tea?” he asks, risking a glance directly into her hypnotizing eyes. 

“I don’t need—“ Katniss begins, but Peeta puts a hand up to stop her. 

“It’s cold out,” he reasons. “And I don’t want to drink my tea alone.” He smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring way. It must be somewhat, because she reaches for a packet of sugar to stir into her cup of tea. She seems more reluctant to take the cheese bun, so after Peeta cracks open his laptop he pulls off a large chunk of his own and pops it into his mouth. 

“These are cheese buns,” he explains, after he swallows the bite. “Please help me eat them; they won’t keep past this afternoon.”

Something flashes in her eyes, as if she is remembering the last time he offered her baked goods, and she seems to be contemplating running out the front door. But after a moment she must change her mind, because she tentatively pinches a small bite from her own cheese bun. The look on her face when she tastes the first bite is his reward for the boldness of insisting she stay. 

After the first bite she basically inhales the rest of the cheese bun, and then drinks down her tea faster than Peeta thinks is physically comfortable, given the temperature of the liquid. 

Peeta bites his lip to keep from grinning as he watches her out of the corner of his eye. In the meantime, he’s scrolling through the Google search returns, looking for information on the gold Mockingjay pin. He looks up at Katniss when she sets her empty teacup on the table. 

“So the pin is a family heirloom?” he asks, typing into the search bar again. 

“Yes,” she replies. “It was my grandmother’s, but I think she got it from her own mother. It’s been in my father’s family for generations. I’m not sure how old it is exactly.”

Peeta turns his computer screen toward her, showing her the results of his search. On the screen is a similar gold pin, although not featuring the bird motif, but a more simplistic flower design. 

“So this one says it dates back to the early 1800s,” he says, pointing at the screen. “But I can’t find anything about the current market value. Of course, if it’s a family heirloom, you probably don’t want to sell it. ”

Almost immediately her features form what he has come to know as her standard scowl. She picks up the pin from the table between them and stands. 

“Well, thanks for the information,” she says shortly. 

“Katniss, wait,” Peeta says softly, reaching out to stop her from leaving. He catches her on the forearm, laying his hand on the soft, worn leather of her jacket. 

“Why?” she asks impatiently. “You don’t want it.”

Peeta shakes his head, slightly amused. “I didn’t say I don’t want it,” he says. “Sit down and relax.” He gestures for her to retake her seat. And to his surprise, she does. Her cheeks are now colored a rosy shade of pink and she seems intent on studying the boards beneath her laced up boots. 

Setting the laptop back on the table, Peeta reaches out toward Katniss’ clenched hand and gently grasps it from underneath. 

“May I?” he asks, and she stares at him like a deer in headlights for a moment before understanding dawns on her face and she slowly unclenches her fingers to allow him to retrieve the pin from her palm. 

Peeta picks up the Mockingjay pin from her hand, his fingers lightly brushing her calloused palm in the process. He clears his throat, hoping she can’t tell from looking at him just how affected he is from merely touching her skin. Or really, from just being in her presence. What is it about this woman? She has some sort of spellbinding effect on him…

She has no idea the effect she has; or at least she appears to be completely absorbed by a tiny thread in the seam of her pants that she is pulling at intently. But unless Peeta is imagining it, she seems to be blushing again. 

“So, ah, what do you think it’s worth?” Peeta asks, then shakes his head at his poor choice of words. He tries again. “I mean, clearly it’s priceless—a family heirloom—but um…” he trails off, uncertain of how to continue. 

“I’ll take $100,” Katniss blurts out. 

He can’t help it—Peeta laughs, but there is no mirth in it. In fact, he shakes his head sadly. It’s clear to him now that Katniss needs cash and she needs it badly. If she’s willing to part with something so valuable, and something that has been in her family for generations, she must truly be desperate. Just looking at her skinny frame and hungry eyes is enough to confirm his suspicions. 

He doesn’t know what it is about this woman, but Peeta feels compelled to help her. He’s drawn to her in a way he has never been drawn to another person, and deep down he knows he needs more of her—more time to learn everything about her; to memorize the changing shadows in her eyes and the myriad of expressions that cross her face every minute. So he does something that is probably stupid, and certainly impulsive. 

“I’ll give you $1,000 for it,” he says, looking directly into her eyes to indicate the seriousness of his offer. 

Katniss gasps, her expression briefly flickering with a sort of elation and relief, and then immediately returning something holding more suspicion. Her eyes narrow and she just barely shakes her head from side to side, considering him. 

“You’re making fun of me,” she says, after a moment of consideration. 

“Katniss, no!” Peeta replies, reaching out to touch the sleeve of her jacket once again. “I’m completely serious. You saw the research I pulled up on the internet—it’s an antique, and rare.”  
The glare is gone, but she still regards him with wariness. 

He can see that she doubts him, and he can’t bear the idea of her walking out of here and selling this pin for mere dollars when she so clearly needs much more. He clears his throat. “Besides, I can easily double my money,” he lies. 

She’s softening, he can tell. She sighs, and then finally nods. 

“So you’ll allow it?” he asks. 

At this she gifts him with the briefest of smiles. Peeta can’t help but return it with a wide grin. 

“I don’t have that kind of cash on hand,” he says, moving toward the cash register. “But I can give you $300 today, and then if you come by again tomorrow I can give you the rest. Is that okay?”

“That’s fair,” she says, her demeanor returning to one of all business. 

Peeta opens the cash register up and lifts the till, pulling out several large bills and counting them out. Truthfully, $300 is about all he has in the drawer, not counting small bills and change. He hands it over to Katniss, who looks as if she is itching to turn and run now that the business is complete. Instead she holds out her hand to shake. 

Peeta offers his own right hand to shake in return, but then brings his left hand over as well and clasps her hand between his two warmly. 

“Thank you,” she says, her eyes meeting his for a moment before flitting away again toward her boots. 

“Anytime, Katniss,” he replies. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When she’s gone, Peeta pockets the Mockingjay pin and watches her through the window as she heads back down the bike trail toward the woods on foot. He has no intention of selling the pin. Ever.


	5. Chapter 5

Peeta keeps Katniss’ Mockingjay pin in his pocket. Periodically he rubs it between his fingers, wondering more about the story of where it came from. It’s still in his pocket when he heads home later that evening. 

That night, he lies in bed, checking his Instagram and Twitter feeds. When he reaches over to plug his phone into the charger, he sees the Mockingjay pin laying on his bedside table and picks it up to examine it again. He flips the small, golden object over and over, searching it as if it might provide some insight into the mysterious Katniss. Sighing, he finally sets it aside and eventually drifts off to sleep. 

The next morning, he stops at the bank on his way to the shop and withdraws $700 in cash. When he gets to his store, he puts the money in an envelope and writes “Katniss” on the front, then places the envelope below the drawer in the cash register and locks it up. 

He puts the Mockingjay pin out on display in the store, so Katniss will see it there when she comes back for the rest of her money. He knows she will expect it to be for sale so that he can make a return on his investment. 

Then he waits. And waits, and waits. 

By lunchtime, Peeta is anxious. He doesn’t even really know why he’s so eager, because even though he’s looking forward to talking to her again, he knows that once she takes the money he may never see her again. 

At 5:30 p.m. he reluctantly closes the store, thirty minutes past the usual time. She never showed. Peeta retrieves the Mockingjay pin from the display case and carries it home with him once again. 

….

A week goes by, and still she doesn’t come by to get the rest of her money. Peeta wonders if he will ever see her again. Which is why he’s more than a little surprised to see her standing in front of a display case at his parent’s bakery two days before Valentine’s Day. 

Peeta’s there, reluctantly, to help fill the extra orders during the holiday rush, since the extra help his parents hire keeps quitting as soon as they realize how impossible it is to work for his mother. Anyway, his shop is closed today, and he doesn’t mind being in the bakery as long as he can hide away in the back and focus on what he does best, which is the decorating. 

He’s carrying a tray of cookies he just finished icing, with plans to replenish the display case, when he comes through the doors from the kitchen and sees Katniss standing there. She’s too intently focused on what she’s looking at in the display case to notice him; her lip caught between her teeth as she makes what appears to be a very important decision between a strawberry cupcake with pink icing and a giant heart shaped cookie. 

“If you’re looking for bakery treats, I know a guy who would give them to you for free,” he says, startling her. As soon as the words are out of his mouth he realizes how creepy they sound. She’s staring at him wide-eyed, frozen in place as if she can’t decide whether to back away slowly or just take off running full speed. Either way, she clearly wants to get as far away from him as fast as possible. He can’t say he blames her after that line. 

Still juggling the large tray, his face probably as red as the icing on the cookies by now, he clears his throat and tries again. “I, um, I meant…I keep a selection of these bakery items at the store…and you’re welcome anytime.” He sighs. Katniss’ face is impassive and he has no idea if she thinks he’s a total psycho or just a raging idiot. 

Peeta turns, opening the display from the back to slide the heavy tray in that he’s been holding. He decides to go for just plain honesty. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he says. Then adds, “You never came back for the rest of your money. I have it for you at the store.”

At this she scowls, and then her face softens and she looks at the floor. “I don’t…” she starts and then clears her throat and looks up at him, her voice stronger. “The $300 was more than fair. I don’t feel right taking the rest of the money.”

Peeta shrugs, pretending indifference, but really, he can’t figure out this woman at all. “But that was our deal, Katniss. I’m planning on making a nice profit off the pin you sold me, so it’s only fair that you take what we agreed.” 

At this her brow creases momentarily and she asks, “Has it sold yet? My grandmother’s pin?”

“No, not yet, but there’s been plenty of interest,” Peeta lies. He doesn’t know why he feels so strongly that Katniss take his money, but he senses that she needs it very badly and he feels compelled to help her in any way he can.

“Okay,” she agrees quietly. “I’ll come by within the week.”

“Great,” Peeta responds, his face lighting up in a triumphant smile. “Now, what can I help you with here? On the house.”

“No,” she says, forcefully. “I’ll pay. I have cash. I want to get my sister one of these iced cookies for Valentine’s Day,” she tells him. “I know it’s frivolous, but we didn’t have anything for Christmas, and…” she trails off, seeming embarrassed to have revealed so much. 

“Wait right here for just a minute,” Peeta says, turning back toward the door that leads into the kitchen. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

A minute later he returns, a small box in his hand. “These are the freshest ones we have,” he tells Katniss, handing her the box containing four heart-shaped cookies. Katniss opens the lid and gasps, her hand coming to cover her mouth in surprise. Each cookie is iced in white, with a delicate pink primrose in the center. 

“How did you know?” she asks in astonishment.   
“Know what?” Peeta says, pleased that she seems to like them, but confused by her question. 

“My sister…her name is Prim. Primrose,” she explains. 

Peeta feels like his eyes are bugging out of his head comically, like a cartoon character. “Really?” he asks, incredulously. “I just thought they looked pretty.”

“You did these?” Katniss asks in return. 

“Yes,” he replies. “I’m helping with the decorating during the holiday rush. It’s what I used to do here, before I opened my vintage store.”

Katniss nods in understanding. She glances around the bakery for a second, finally coming back to rest her gaze on Peeta. “Well, thank you,” she says. “How much do I owe? I’m not sure I have enough.” 

Peeta glances down to her hands, where he can see she is clutching a couple of dollar bills and quickly replies, “Two dollars,” in his most assured tone. He chuckles when she rolls her eyes at him. 

“Seriously?” she says, her tone indicating that she does not believe him one bit. 

“Seriously,” he says, swallowing the lump in his throat that seems to form each time she looks him directly in the eyes. 

Katniss seems to decide something then, as he gazes at her intently, because her lips turn up just the slightest bit and she says, “Thank you. My sister will love them.” 

She presses the dollar bills into his hand before he can react and then in heartbeat she’s gone and Peeta is left staring into space in the middle of the bakery, oblivious to the noisy din of customers milling all around him.


	6. Chapter 6

On Monday morning Peeta places the Mockingjay pin in it’s place in the display case at his store, then goes about preparing for the day. When he sees Rye pull up in the bakery truck, he goes out to help him carry in the trays. 

Peeta is unconscious of the fact that he’s whistling as he arranges the fresh bakery items in the case, a permanent smile plastered on his face. 

“What’s the good news?” asks Rye, watching him with amusement from the other side of the counter. 

“What?” says Peeta, glancing quickly at Rye before going back to his task of moving the cheese buns to the back of the tray and pushing the raspberry scones forward. 

“What do you mean ‘What’?” replies Rye. “You’re all wound up about something.” Rye looks around the store, as if searching for the reason for Peeta’s good mood. “You sell a painting or something?”

Peeta shakes his head, chuckling. “Nah,” he says. 

“Win the lottery?” asks Rye.

“No. No. Its just….it’s a beautiful day, Rye. I’m just enjoying it,” Peeta says, a gleam in his eye. 

Rye rolls his eyes, smacking the countertop with his palm as he turns to leave the store. “Yeah, right. Fine, don’t tell me,” he says lightheartedly. “But I expect all the details later when you’re ready to spill.” 

Peeta comes around the display case and pats Rye roughly on the back. “You’ll be the first to know if something exciting happens to me, bro,” Peeta says, smiling at his brother. 

“Mmm-hmmm, sure” Rye returns, opening the door to leave. Peeta has turned to walk away when the door opens again and Rye pops his head back inside. “Wait—did you meet someone?” he asks. 

Peeta smiles a tight-lipped smile and turns to walk away again. “I’m coming back for the details Peet. I know something’s up with you,” Rye calls loudly as he lets the door close behind him again. 

…..

Katniss shows up around 2:00 in the afternoon. Peeta nods in greeting when she comes through the door, then continues with his customer, who is currently examining a 1930s dresser. 

“It’s not exactly what I was picturing, but I think it will fit the space,” the woman is saying. 

“It’s a high quality piece,” Peeta says, opening the top drawer. “Do you see how the wood has been dove-tailed to fit together on these corners? I think if you were to re-stain this piece, and maybe change out the drawer pulls on the front…” He closes the top drawer and motions to the old brass knobs running down the front of the dresser.

“Yes! That would look nice,” exclaims the lady. “You do have an eye for these things, Peeta,” she goes on. 

“Want to think about it a little more?” Peeta asks. “I’m happy to hold it for you.”

“No, I think it will work nicely,” the lady concludes. “I’ll take it. I’ll have Jim come by with the truck tomorrow and pick it up, if that’s okay.”

“That works,” Peeta replies. “It’ll be right here.”

Katniss has been wandering around the store, waiting for Peeta to finish with the customer. She eventually comes to the display case which holds the Mockingjay pin, where she stops, gazing at it fondly. 

“See something in there you like?” Peeta asks, jokingly, as he approaches her. “Sorry about that,” he says, gesturing toward the door where the woman buying the dresser has just exited. 

“Don’t be,” Katniss replies, looking up at him. “That’s what you’re here for.” 

Peeta nods in agreement. That is true. 

They stand there in silence, taking each other in, until Katniss finally bites her lip and begins drumming her fingers on the top of the display case. “Well, ummm…” she starts. 

“Your money!” Peeta suddenly blurts. “Let me get it for you.” He turns abruptly and walks quickly to the register, which he opens, pulling out the envelope with Katniss’ name on it. 

Katniss’ face flushes a bit as she follows him to the register. “I was thinking,” she says hesitantly, watching as he holds the envelope out toward her. “What if…what if I just take another $200. That way, if no one buys the pin, I won’t owe you as much back.”

Peeta shakes his head, smiling kindly at her. “Katniss, I already told you—I’m not expecting you to buy it back. Even if it doesn’t sell right away…sometimes these things take awhile. Some of the things in this shop I’ve had for years.”

She purses her lips, seeming to think of another way out of taking the envelope, which she still hasn’t taken from Peeta’s outstretched hand. 

“But still,” she says, “I don’t like to carry that much cash around. Maybe you could just keep it here for me, and I’ll just take what I need today.” 

At this Peeta’s eyebrows raise, but he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t say the obvious, which is, ‘why don’t you put it in your bank account?’ He simply smiles and retracts his arm, opening the envelope and fishing out $200, which he hands to Katniss. 

“This enough?” he asks. 

She takes the money readily from him this time, returning his smile with a small one of her own. “Yes,” she says, “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” Peeta says, sincerely.

Katniss turns back to the display case and gives the Mockingjay pin one last longing look, then turns back to Peeta. “Well, I’ll see you soon,” she says. 

“Yeah, see you soon,” Peeta replies. She’s halfway out the door when he has a thought. “Hey Katniss?”

“Yeah?” she says, turning back to look at him over her shoulder. 

“Would you—I mean, I was just about to have some tea. I always like it better with some company,” Peeta finishes, giving her a sheepish smile. 

She pauses, looking out into the open field just beyond the store, and he’s sure she’s just trying to come up with the right words to let him down nicely. Then she looks back at him, her gray eyes seeming softer than they were just moments before. “I could do that,” she murmurs. Then she steps back inside and closes the door behind her quietly. 

…

“So,” Peeta says, setting down the plate of re-heated cheese buns and two mugs of tea. “How did your sister—Prim?—like the cookies you gave her?”

At this Katniss breaks into the largest smile Peeta has seen on her face yet. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and glances away, still smiling. “She said they were the best cookies she has ever eaten,” Katniss responds. 

“And what about you—what did you think?” Peeta asks. 

“Oh I didn’t try them, but I’m sure they were delicious,” she says. 

“What, she didn’t share?” Peeta says in a teasing voice. 

“Oh, no, she offered,” Katniss quickly amends. “I just didn’t want to take any. They were a gift for her. A treat.” She reaches down and pinches off a small section of one of the cheese buns and holds it up, smirking at him. “Besides, I prefer savory treats to sweet.”

“Noted,” Peeta responds, smiling at her in wonder. This new side of her—the one where she opens up and is actually joking around with him—is better than anything he could have expected.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. First of all--thank you for reading and for all the positive comments! I so appreciate hearing that you enjoy this story and it makes it much more fun to write. Thank you! 
> 
> You may have noticed that I recently changed the rating from G to T. I changed the rating (after receiving some good advice) because I want the option of adding in some more implied romance (nothing crazy), and also to attract a wider range of readers. This does not mean the story will change drastically in tone. I know several of you have said that you enjoy the easy nature of this story, so it will remain as it is. I have already outlined and mostly written it, but as I finish out chapters I do change things and add things. And let's face it--it is Everlark so it is Love.   
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading and please keep the comments coming! Best--

Katniss comes back each week, usually on a Tuesday and always in the late afternoon when there are few to no customers in the store. Peeta takes to withholding two cheese buns from the bakery case on the mornings he expects her. When she arrives, he makes their tea and sets out the snacks as a matter of routine now. 

She always goes to the Mockingjay pin first thing, glances in the display case to be sure its still there and then pretends indifference. Peeta thinks maybe the sole purpose of her visits is to check on the pin, and that tea and conversation with him, along with the $100 or $200 she takes in payment, are just an aside. 

Over the course of several weeks he learns that she is interested in plants; specifically in their healing properties. She would have gone to college and studied botany, but her Dad died about a year after she graduated from high school, and she moved back in with her mother and sister to help out. 

“We still receive my Dad’s pension,” she tells him one day. “But my Mom…she sort of…zoned out after he died. And she hasn’t been able to work, or do anything really. I was waitressing before, to save up for college. But I lost that job because I called in too many times when my Mom was really bad and my sister needed me there.” She sighs, realizing she’s shared more than she intended. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this, Peeta.” she stares down at her boots, her face turning pink. 

“Hey,” Peeta says, reaching out and tentatively putting his hand on her knee. “I like listening to you.” In fact, he thinks to himself, I like everything about you. 

Her lips turn up in a half smile and she looks up at him. “So the pin,” she gestures toward the case where the Mockingjay pin is displayed. “I needed the cash to pay a hospital bill. Prim had appendicitis last spring and it wiped out our savings. She’s fine, thank God, but…it all just sort of snowballed and suddenly I was behind on every single thing. When it got to the point where I had to choose between buying groceries or paying the electric bill, I knew I had to find a solution. You saved the day.”

“I didn’t,” he says. “I just have an eye for a good investment.”

She narrows her eyes at him slightly. He removes his hand from her knee and clears his throat. Does she know how beautiful she is? He wonders silently. How much just that one look she gives him unnerves him?

…

He’s not at all prepared for the day when the Mockingjay pin catches a customer’s eye. A well-dressed man, who has strolled briskly through the store, seemingly unimpressed with everything, pauses in front of the display case and then leans in to examine the contents more closely.

“What’s this?” he says, pointing into the case and directing his question at Peeta. “Can we take it out so I can get a better look?”

“Certainly,” says Peeta. “Which piece?” He pretends not to know the man means the Mockingjay pin; hopes really, that he man means one of the gaudy old-fashioned brooches he has picked up at various estate sales. 

“This gold one, with the bird,” says the man as Peeta approaches with the key to open the display. 

“Ohhhhh,” Peeta draws out the sound, trying to think his way out of the situation. “That one is….not for sale,” he says finally. “It’s a family heirloom.”

“Oh,” says the man. “That’s too bad. It’s really quite exquisite.”

“Would you like to look at one of the others?” Peeta offers, but the man waves him off. 

“No, thank you,” he says. He strolls around the store for a minute or so more and then leaves. Peeta heaves a sigh of relief, taking the Mockingjay pin out of the display and hiding it safely in his pocket. He hadn’t thought ahead to the eventuality of someone actually wanting to buy the pin.

…

The next time Katniss comes by the store, she notices right away that the Mockingjay pin is missing from its usual place in the display case. Peeta must have forgotten to put it back after the man was in asking about purchasing it. 

“It sold,” Katniss breathes out the words, disbelief tinged with echoes of sadness in her tone. 

It is only in this moment that Peeta realizes that he hasn’t put the pin back in the case since that day. He rushes over to where she hovers over the display case, the words rushing out of his mouth, “No! No, I still have it. I didn’t sell it,” he promises. 

She bites the corner of her lip, looks at him skeptically. “Then where is it?” she asks, her voice holding just the tiniest edge of accusation, but mainly curious. 

Peeta’s eyes squint slightly, his forehead wrinkles momentarily and a crease forms between his eyes. In the blink of an eye his features are smooth again and he answers, just as smoothly, and also honestly, “I take it home at night, to keep it safe. And I must have forgotten to bring it back and put it in the display case.”

“Oh,” replies Katniss, apparently satisfied with his answer. “That makes sense I guess.” Quickly she turns her back to him and begins examining some old teacups nearby. “So you haven’t, uh, had any interest in the pin, then?” she asks in a carefully nonchalant tone. 

“Lots of customers admire it,” Peeta tells her. “But no one has seriously offered to buy it. It’s safe with me for now.” 

“That’s good,” Katniss says, still preoccupied with the teacups and not looking at him. Peeta can’t tell exactly what she’s thinking but he knows her a little better by now and he’s acutely aware that something is off. He just hopes she hasn’t become suspicious of his motive for buying the Mockingjay pin…or that she’s figured out he never intends to sell it. Because for some reason he can’t quite pin down, he knows that however noble his intentions, she won’t like it one bit.


	8. Chapter 8

The weather is starting to warm again, ever so slightly, although the wind is still brisk and bites into Peeta’s face as he pedals his bike up the trail to his store. At least the snow has melted and the path is clear again. He has missed riding his bike to work; it helps to clear his head at the beginning of each day. 

On the front of his bike he has used bungee cords to secure a small record player, most likely made in the 1950s, that he found at a rummage sale over the weekend. He can’t wait to get to the store and do some research on the piece. 

With this prospect—he truly enjoys finding and dating these vintage items—along with the coming Springtime and the knowledge that Katniss will most likely stop by on one of the next few afternoons, Peeta’s spirits are bright. Humming a tune to himself, he turns his face up to the sun, a smile on his face. He only closes his eyes for a second, soaking in the moment; but a second is all it takes. 

The wheel of Peeta’s bike hits a rock in just such a way that it jostles the vintage record player. Peeta’s eyes fly open, his heart beat picking up speed as he scrambles to grab the record player before it slips off the front of the bike. But just as Peeta grabs the record player with his left hand, his bike hits another, larger rock in his path. He’s thrown off the front of his bike, flipping in the air. The record player is tossed to the side in the process. Although he’s wearing a helmet, he still feels the sickening thud of his head as it bounces off the pavement. 

You’re fine, Peeta tells himself silently. He sits up slowly, unbuckles his helmet and rubs the back of his head. His vision seems to be almost double for a moment and he feels slightly sick to his stomach. Off to the side he sees the record player, lying in the nearby grass. The top of its case seems to have come unhinged and broken off, but otherwise it looks relatively unharmed. Peeta sighs in relief and moves to stand to retrieve it, but he immediately falls back to the ground with a loud shout. 

He clenches his teeth and takes a deep breath, pulling his pant leg up on the left side. There is no doubt his left ankle is at least sprained, but judging by the color and swelling he sees, it may possibly be broken. He takes out his cell phone and calls Rye. 

….

The record player is not a total loss, Peeta muses as he works on re-attaching the lid a few days later. Rye dropped the bike off at a repair shop, so that will be as good as new soon, too. Peeta’s leg, however, is going to take a bit more time. 

Once they confirmed it was broken at the urgent care center, Peeta had to wear a temporary boot until he could get it cast the next day. The pain really isn’t all that terrible, but the inconvenience of wearing a cast for the next 12 weeks has soured Peeta’s usual cheerful demeanor. 

He hears the bells jingle, signifying someone has just walked into the store, but he doesn’t look up right away. He’s not even aware that he’s scowling down at the record player as he tightens a screw on one of the hinges. 

“What’s wrong?”

Peeta’s head jerks up at the sound of Katniss’ voice, filled with concern. She’s peering over the countertop at him, where he sits working on the record player. 

“Nothing,” Peeta responds, quietly. “Just trying to fix this lid.” He looks back down at the record player and continues with his work. 

“Oh,” Katniss says softly. 

She goes over to the display case to check on the Mockingjay pin, her usual routine, but stops short when she sees that the pin is missing again. 

“Did you leave it at home again?” she asks, with just the slightest waver in her voice.

“What?” Peeta asks distractedly. He glances up and sees that she’s standing near the display case and adds, “Oh, yeah. I left it at home.”

Katniss walks around the store soundlessly for several minutes and Peeta goes back to screwing in the other hinge on the lid to the record player. Finally she comes to a stop in front of the counter he sits behind. She stands there for several moments in silence and then clears her throat. 

“Are you upset with me?” she finally asks in a small voice. 

This gets Peeta’s attention and he looks up at her and into her eyes for the first time since she came through the door. “No,” he says, his face crinkled in confusion. “Why?”

“You’re just…” Katniss trails off, gesturing with her hand toward Peeta as if that explains what she’s feeling. “You’re just so quiet,” she finally finishes. 

Peeta sighs, setting the record player aside on a low table nearby. He leans down and retrieves his crutches from where he has stashed them under the counter and moves to stand up. It’s only now that Katniss notices the cast on his leg and she lets out a small gasp when she realizes why he’s holding crutches. 

He hobbles out from behind the counter and smiles at her sheepishly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just not myself right now,” Peeta says. 

“The store was closed when I came by on Tuesday,” Katniss replies. “I knew something was wrong. What happened?”

“Just a classic case of not paying attention,” Peeta says, turning to hobble over to the seating area and gesturing for Katniss to follow. “I wrecked my bike, broke my ankle, and they said I had a concussion”—he stops and interjects “I’m fine!” when Katniss gasps again. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Katniss offers, after a minute. She gives him a small smile and he returns it with one of his wide grins. After only a few minutes in her presence he feels much better. He tells her so. 

“I’m much better seeing you,” he says and watches as her cheeks turn pink while her fingers finds her braid, which she begins twisting. 

“What about you?” Peeta asks. “How are things going?”

“Good,” replies Katniss. “I’m glad to see the weather turning. It means yard sale season will begin soon.”

“I love this time of year,” Peeta agrees. “Although…I’m not sure how I’m going to get around to all the sales with this thing.” He taps the cast that wraps around his leg from his knee down to his toes. 

Katniss looks around the store and muses. “And you need to shop the sales, for new inventory,” she says, more as a statement than a question. 

“Yes,” Peeta confirms. “I mean, I guess I could stay open with just what I already have here, but a lot of my repeat customers count on the flow of new inventory. Part of the intrigue of this place is seeing what new items are here each week. I’m actually a little worried about what it might mean for the store, especially after such a slow winter.”

“I could help you,” Katniss says. She's looking at him earnestly and he gazes back into her eyes, which seem to be lit up like diamonds at the moment. 

“How?” he says doubtfully. 

“I don’t know,” she admits. “But maybe I could scout out the good sales for you? So you wouldn’t have to go to as many? Or…” she trails off unsure. 

But Peeta has an idea forming and it’s evident in the way his grin is stretching wider. He can’t help himself as he reaches out and takes both of Katniss’ hands in his own, clasping them and giving a soft squeeze. 

“Do you really want to help me?” he says. 

Katniss nods, glancing briefly down to where he has her hands captured in his own and then back up into his blue eyes. 

“What if…you shop the yards sales and estate sales for me?” Peeta begins. “You know the sort of items I’m looking for and I trust your judgment 100 percent. You bring the items to the store for me and you get a percentage of the sale on those items; a finder’s fee,” he explains. 

Katniss’ eyes are looking everywhere except at him now, and a crease has formed in her forehead. She begins to pull away slightly and he drops her hands reluctantly. She seems wary, and Peeta knows enough about her now to realize that she’s probably worried that this seems like charity. But he really does need her help, or he will certainly miss out on all the good finds this season. 

“Katniss, please,” Peeta says. “I need your help. I can’t think of anyone more qualified than you to canvas the sales. You already know where to find the best items and I’ve seen you negotiate—you drive a hard bargain.” His smile spreads wide again when he sees that she’s cracking a smile now as well. 

“You do need help,” she says tentatively, nodding toward the cast on his leg. “And I do need a job,” she admits. “But I'll only take a small percentage--no arguing.” She looks up at Peeta and smiles. 

“Together?” Peeta asks.

“Together,” Katniss says, and he swears she’s practically beaming at him now.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry it has taken me so long to update! I've practically worn the keys off my laptop writing in real life for work, but today was my first chance to write anything fun. I hope you'll forgive me for the lack of Katniss in this chapter, but I feel like it is an important bridge chapter for more Everlark to come. Happy Weekend!

It turns out that Katniss isn’t just good at Peeta’s job — she’s great at it. In fact, Peeta is pretty sure that if it were a competition, she’d win every time. 

“But seriously, how did you get the owners to give you this for 30 bucks?” Peeta asks Katniss incredulously as he examines the early twentieth century bed frame she has in the back of the truck. 

Katniss shrugs. “I just wore them down, I guess,” she says modestly. 

Peeta whistles. “That is a negotiation I would liked to have seen,” he says. He’s grinning at her again. It seems that he can’t really look at her lately without feeling like his face is going to split in half with joy. 

She smiles back, one of her wider smiles that he’s come to know only occur when she’s feeling content and sure of herself. After a moment she glances down at his leg. “So, um….I can carry most of the smaller stuff but how will we get this thing inside?” she asks. 

It turns out that Peeta does not have to think very hard for a solution because right at that moment Rye pulls up in the bakery truck. When he spots Peeta and Katniss standing near the truck he honks his horn a few times, a wide grin on his face. He shouts through his open window, “What’s up baby brother?!”

Peeta turns just slightly pink at this, waving to Rye who is now hoping down from the front seat and sauntering over. He wastes no time at all in bypassing Peeta in favor of Katniss, smiling directly at her, which causes her to look away while she scuffles the toe of her boot in the gravel. 

“Well hellooo,” says Rye, drawing out the end of the word. “You must be Katniss.”

“Katniss, this is my brother Rye. Rye, Katniss,” Peeta makes the obligatory introductions. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Katniss says as she takes the hand Rye offers and gives it a quick shake. 

“Wow,” Rye says. “Peeta said you were the prettiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on, but I though he was just being his usual poetic self.” Katniss makes an indecipherable noise in the back of her throat, unsure of how to respond.

Peeta can feel himself turning cherry red, and he can plainly see that Katniss is as well. He clears his throat loudly and Rye turns his head to look at him with a smirk. 

“What brought you over here so late in the afternoon Rye?” Peeta asks, trying to change the subject. 

“Oh, nothing really. I finished early at the bakery so I thought I’d swing by and see how you’re doing,” Rye says. He looks pointedly over at Katniss and flashes her another big smile. “Thought I might get to meet the infamous Katniss.” 

“Well, it’s good timing, anyway,” says Peeta. “You can help us carry this bed frame into the store.” 

“Sure thing,” Rye says, grinning at them both. “But only if you buy me a beer later at The Hob.”

Peeta groans good-naturedly. “Is that your price for everything?” he asks.

….

Katniss is even more quiet than usual as they work to move all the new items from the truck into the store. When they finish she announces that she needs to head home to check on Prim. 

Rye has stuck around waiting for Peeta to close up shop and is sitting in one of the lounge chairs by the front window with his feet up on the small coffee table. As soon as the door closes behind Katniss he pounces. 

“So…..,” he says, drawing it out and letting the word hang there. 

Peeta pretends not to know what Rye is planning to tease him about. 

“So that’s Katniss,” Rye says. He watches as Peeta pretends to be intensely busy shuffling some papers around behind the counter. 

“Mmmmhmmm,” Peeta replies, trying to sound nonchalant and failing. Rye chuckles to himself as he watches Peeta continue to do everything possible to avoid eye contact. 

“So are you hitting that or what?” Rye finally says. 

At this Peeta’s head snaps up and he narrows his eyes at Rye. “No. I am not ‘hitting that’ and I likely won’t ever be thanks to your big mouth,” Peeta says through gritted teeth. Turning away to find his keys he adds, “Don’t talk about her that way.”

“Okay, but you totally want to,” Rye says smugly, grinning like the Cheshire Cat at how clearly uncomfortable he is making Peeta. 

When Peeta turns back to face Rye his face is flushed, but he only says, “Do you want your beer or what?” and holds his keys up as a sign he’s ready to lock up and head out. 

Rye brings his feet to the floor and stands, still visibly amused. “Beer is an excellent idea. Maybe get you to loosen up and tell me why this girl has turned you into a tomato-faced mess.”

….

It’s Happy Hour at the Hob, so Peeta orders a $5 pitcher of cheap beer from the familiar woman behind the bar. He has no idea what her real name is—everyone just calls her Ripper. Somehow he manages to balance the pitcher and two glasses while he hobbles back to the sticky booth Rye has claimed and sets them down. 

“This is the crap beer you’re paying me with?” Rye says, but it doesn’t stop him from reaching for the pitcher to begin pouring himself a glass. 

“What?” Peeta says with mock innocence. “I bought you an entire pitcher.”

“Cheap-ass,” Rye mutters, but Peeta knows he’s just joking. He slides in the seat across from Rye pours himself a beer. 

They drain the pitcher of beer fairly quickly, talking about everything from family and friends to Rye wanting to move out West. 

“You want another?” Rye asks, gesturing toward the bar. “I’ll get this round. Besides, I’m afraid you’ll drop this next one trying to walk and carry everything with that boot on your foot, now that you’ve had a few.”

Peeta laughs. “I’m way more coordinated than you even with this thing on my foot,” he goads. “But I’ll let you get the next round anyway.” 

“Fine,” says Rye. “And when I get back you’re going to spill about Katniss. Don’t think I forgot.” 

Suddenly the smile drops from Peeta’s face. He sticks his hands in his pockets abruptly and begins pulling things out—his keys to the store, some cash, a scrap of paper he had written some research on earlier at the store.   
“Crap,” Peeta says out loud. “I gotta go.”

Rye is standing already, turned toward the bar, but he turns his head back toward Peeta. “Now? Where?” he says, frowning at Peeta. 

“Yeah,” Peeta says, distracted as he crams everything back into his pockets. “Back to the store. I forgot the Mockingjay.”

“The Mocking-what?” asks Rye. 

“Never mind,” says Peeta, starting to stand.

“Seriously bro,” Rye says, putting his hand on Peeta’s shoulder. “You can’t go anywhere right now anyway. You can’t drive and you certainly can’t walk.”

Peeta deflates, sitting back down in the booth and scrubbing his hands through his hair. “Valid point,” he says, defeated. “It’s probably fine anyway.”

Rye shakes his head, smirking at his pitiful younger brother. “Tell you what,” Rye says. “How about another beer for you and a water for me, then I’ll drive you back over to the store for this Mocking pin or whatever.”

Peeta gives Rye an appreciative glance. “You don’t mind?” he says, his voice sounding hopeful for the first time since he realized the pin wasn’t in his pocket. 

Rye laughs. “Oh I don’t mind at all,” he says. “Because you’re going to owe me another pitcher of beer next time.”

…

Rye’s brow furrows when he sees the Mockingjay pin after Peeta pulls it out of the display case. “That’s what you came all the way back here for? Must be some pricey jewelry.”

The extra beer, combined with the relief of being able to stop back by the store to get the pin, has Peeta in a fairly happy state. 

“Pfffph!” Peeta lets out in an exaggerated puff of air. “It’s not just a piece of jewelry. It’s been in Katniss’ family for generations.” He stumbles a little toward Rye, holding out the pin to show him. 

There is a twinkle in Rye’s eye as he takes in Peeta’s slightly tipsy state. “Katniss’ family, huh?” he says, taking the pin from Peeta and looking it over. 

“She wants me to sell it,” Peeta says. “But I think she’s making a mistake, so I’m not going to.”

Ryes eyebrows go up a bit and he hands the pin back to Peeta saying, “Does she know this?”

Peeta looks away, not meeting Rye’s eyes. “No,” he says quietly.

“What do you think she’ll say, when she finds out?” Rye asks. 

“I don’t….I haven’t thought that far ahead,” Peeta admits. He pockets the Mockingjay pin and moves to leave the store. 

“Well, it’s none of my business,” Rye says. “But I think you should tell her.”

Peeta nods, but he doesn’t respond or commit one way or the other. 

“Oh and Peeta?” Rye says, putting his hand on Peeta’s shoulder in a brotherly gesture. “You should tell her how you feel about her while you’re at it.”  
…


	10. Chapter 10

“Katniss, I have feelings for you. Oh, and I’ve been lying to you about selling the Mockingjay pin.” Peeta frowns at himself in the mirror. Yeah, this isn’t going to go well. 

He thinks about when he was a child, and how whenever his father had bad news to tell Peeta and his brothers, he would first ply them with a treat from the bakery. Probably not the best parenting strategy, but it sure softened the blow. Besides, this isn’t all bad news, Peeta thinks. Assuming she considers my feelings for her a good thing. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and heads to the kitchen to get started on some homemade cinnamon rolls. 

…

“You made cinnamon rolls?” Katniss’ voice rises a bit at the end, even though her face remains in its carefully neutral state. 

Peeta grins, hearing the obvious excitement in her tone. “I made them for you, actually,” he tells her. He watches as her face turns a bit pink and she ducks her head. 

“Thank you, Peeta,” she says. 

They take their usual spots across from each other in the comfortable seating by the window. Peeta decides to jump right in to his confession, figuring if he can get to the end before she finishes her cinnamon roll, it will be best. 

“So,” Peeta begins, “I wanted to apologize for my brother—I hope he didn’t make you too uncomfortable the other day.”

Katniss doesn’t look up at him but she shrugs. “No, it was fine,” she says. “Brothers are like that, right?” She looks up and gives Peeta a half-hearted smile, catching him staring intently at her. He looks away and clears his throat. 

“I mean, it’s true; I do talk about you a lot, I guess. And I do think you are very—“ Peeta is cut off when Katniss interjects. 

“There’s an auction in Capitol City today!” she says, louder and more forcefully than normal. She’s clearly trying to stop him from saying what he was about to say next, which was “beautiful.” Peeta frowns at the unexpected derailment of his mission, but remains quiet to let her continue. 

“I thought we might drive up,” she says, her voice calmer and back to its normal volume. “There are sure to be a lot of possible items…” She takes a deep breath and continues, “…and it would be a good chance for us to get to know each other better. Since we’re going to be working together.” 

Peeta’s lips quirk up. So she doesn’t want him to tell her that he thinks she’s beautiful, but she does want to spend the day together, he thinks. It could be worse. He decides his confession about the pin and his feelings can wait a bit longer. Maybe it is better if they get to know each other better before he tells her why he hasn’t sold the Mockingjay pin. 

“Sure,” he says, giving her an easy smile. “Let me just make a sign for the door explaining why we’re closed. The auction sounds like a great idea and I’d love to spend some time together.”

The smile she gives back to him is as radiant as the sun. 

….

It’s a two-hour drive to Capitol City, and Katniss offers to drive Peeta’s truck so he can relax his leg. Peeta protests at first, because he’s finally off the crutches and the boot on his foot is perfectly fine while driving, as it’s on his left leg. Still, it’s much nicer to stretch it out in the passenger seat and he finally gives in to Katniss. 

“So,” Peeta says, as soon as they pull out onto the highway, “if we’re going to get to know each other, are you ready to talk about the deep stuff?”

Katniss glances at him briefly, scowling, before turning her attention back to the road. “What exactly is the deep stuff?” she asks. 

Peeta chuckles. He wishes he could tell her how adorable she looks when she scowls at him like that. Instead he says, “Like….what’s your favorite color?” 

Katniss lets out a small laugh. “Oh, um, it’s green. What’s yours?”

“Orange,” Peeta says. 

He’s rewarded with another glance from Katniss, this time her face is incredulous. “Orange?” she says in disbelief. 

“Well, not traffic cone orange,” Peeta says, gesturing to a construction barrel on the side of the road. “More like sunset.”

Katniss nods in understanding. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Peeta speaks again. “Now it’s your turn,” he half whispers in a deadpan voice, causing Katniss to let out a small giggle. Her hand flies to her mouth in surprise at the sound. 

…

It’s almost 11:30 in the morning when they begin to approach Capitol City. The estate sale begins at 1:00, with a preview at noon, so Peeta suggests they go ahead and grab an early lunch before they head to the sale. 

“So what do you feel like,” Peeta says, pulling out his phone to find a list of nearby restaurants. 

“Tacos!” they both say in unison, before they immediately start laughing. 

“I know a great place,” Peeta says. “Unless you had something specific in mind?”

Katniss shakes her head. “No, I’m up for wherever,” she says, looking over at Peeta to give him a quick smile. Her face is flushed from laughing and he can’t help but stare at her, swallowing thickly. 

“Peeta?” Katniss asks. 

“Huh?” he says, coming out of a daze. 

“I said, ‘Where to?’ I just need directions,” Katniss says, looking straight ahead at the road, her face still remarkably red. 

“Oh. Um, just turn here and stay on West Second Street. It’s on the corner of Second and Jefferson,” Peeta tells her. 

Katniss nods and steers onto Second Street. 

…  
“So besides tacos, what are your favorite foods?” Katniss asks Peeta over lunch. The covered patio of The Taco Shell overlooks the busy college campus in Capitol City. The place is hopping with college students, but Peeta feels like they are in their own world, seated closely together at a little two-seat table in the corner. 

Katniss’ eyes glow with warmth as she leans forward waiting for Peeta to answer. They’ve been trading questions all day, getting to know more about each other as promised. 

“Probably pizza,” Peeta says. “That’s pretty standard, I guess.” He gives a short, self-depreciating laugh. 

“Who doesn’t like pizza?” Katniss replies, taking a large bite out of her fried chicken taco. There’s a bit of sauce on her face and before he can stop himself, Peeta reaches up and swipes it from where it sits next to her upper lip. 

Katniss ducks her head slightly and wipes her mouth with her napkin. 

Now Peeta can feel his own face turning red. Should he not have done that? He shouldn’t have touched her face. She’s probably thinking of a nice way to tell him to never touch her again. 

“Thanks,” Katniss says shyly, before he can gather up the nerve to say anything. 

“What’s yours?” Peeta asks, changing the subject. 

“Favorite food besides tacos? That’s easy,” says Katniss. “Cheese buns.”

“Not homemade cinnamon rolls?” Peeta teases her, referring to the ones he made for her earlier this morning. 

“They’re a close third,” Katniss says, laughing. “Really anything from this one particular bakery in town—maybe you’ve heard of it? Mellark's?” she’s teasing him back now. 

“Never heard of it,” he deadpans. 

Katniss takes another bite of her taco, chewing slowly and watching him as he watches her with a grin on his face. After she swallows she says, “So what was it like—growing up in a bakery?” She seems genuinely curious. 

“It was good, I guess,” Peeta says. “I mean, I always liked helping my Dad when I was little and then…we just naturally took on more work as we got older. Part time jobs in high school and that sort of thing.”

“But you didn’t want to be a full time baker?” Katniss asks. “You opened the store instead.” 

“It was just…I love the idea of a family business, but I always kind of wanted to do my own thing, you know?”

“I do,” says Katniss, folding her arms on the tabletop and leaning there casually. Katniss and Peeta sit silently, looking into each other’s eyes for a brief and comfortable moment. “And so Blue Sky Mercantile was born,” Katniss finally says, a small smile playing on her lips. 

Peeta returns her smile. “And so Blue Sky Mercantile was born,” he echoes.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay on this chapter. Thanks for reading!

Most of the items at the estate auction are large, expensive, pieces of furniture. Katniss holds a clipboard listing all the items with their lot numbers. She and Peeta walk around, making note of which pieces they will try to bid on once the auction starts. The items are spread out around the downstairs portion of the home and out in the back yard, where the auctioneer is also setting up his microphone. 

Peeta points to a small pile of items over on the side of the garage that do not seem to have lot numbers. “I wonder what the deal is with that stuff?” he asks Katniss, not really expecting an answer. 

Katniss squints in the bright sunlight, noting the mostly useless items; a broken lamp, a few empty planting pots and an old bicycle missing both wheels. “See something you like?” she asks Peeta, in a joking tone. 

But Peeta is already walking toward the pile of junk. He pulls on the bike, standing it awkwardly on its empty rims. Katniss laughs when she sees the gleam in his eye. “You’re an antique bicycle fanatic, aren’t you? Peeta, this thing isn’t even that old and it’s definitely past saving.”

“I don’t know,” Peeta says, but he reluctantly lays the bike back down in the grass. The two of them head back over to where the auctioneer is just starting to get the crowd’s attention so he can begin the auction. 

…  
They are outbid on four of the five items they were most interested in buying. But they do end up an old full-color, wall-sized map of Capitol City that Peeta thinks will look great hanging behind the main counter in the shop. Until it sells, that is.

While he’s paying and loading up the map into the truck, he notices Katniss off to the side talking to the auctioneer. Peeta walks over to let her know they’re all set to take off. He hears her saying, “…it can’t even be restored. I’ll give you ten dollars.”

“Fifteen dollars,” the auctioneer says. 

“It wasn’t even one of the auction items,” Katniss says, her tone friendly but firm. She has that glint in her eye that Peeta knows means she’s enjoying every second of this negotiation. “I’ll give you $12.50.” 

The auctioneer laughs, holding up his hands. “You win,” he says in a good-natured tone. “Do you need help loading it up?” 

“What did we win,” Peeta finally speaks up and Katniss turns, seeming surprised to see him standing there. 

“That bike you wanted,” Katniss says, motioning with her hands toward the pile of junk near the garage. Peeta is momentarily transfixed on her as he takes in the fact that she has just negotiated for the bike simply because he said he wanted it. 

“Wow,” is all he says. “Thank you!” he adds after a moment. 

…  
With everything loaded, the pair hop back into the truck to head home. 

“So what are you going to do with that messed up bike?” Katniss asks him, as soon as they pull away from the auction site. 

Peeta lets out a laugh. “That skeptical, huh?”

Katniss laughs as well. 

“Seriously, though, Katniss, thank you for getting the bike for me. That is just...you were awesome back there.”

She shrugs. 

“Tell me one thing,” Peeta asks. “What did he start the price at before you got him down to $12.50?”

“$45,” Katniss says, like it’s no big deal. 

“Are you serious?” Peeta says, laughter bubbling up as he turns to her, incredulous. 

“What?” she replies. “You wanted it, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeahhhh” Peeta sputters. He’s staring at the side of her face, an intense look on his face. Katniss glances over at him, a small smile playing at her lips. 

“What?” she demands.

“You’re just…you’re pretty incredible, do you know that?” Peeta says, his voice low. 

Katniss doesn't answer, Instead she blows an errant strand of hair out of her line of vision, her face beginning to darken in that lovely shade of pink that Peeta is becoming so fond of. 

….

Two weeks later Peeta has taken the old bicycle completely a part and is combining it with another bike from the same decade. His goal is to put together one complete working bicycle and then display it in the store as an item of interest. There’s no way he’s selling this bike—not after all the work he’s put into restoring it and especially not since it reminds him so much of that perfect day he spent with Katniss going to the estate sale in Capitol City. 

He grins when he hears the bell tinkle over the door signifying someone has entered the store. He’s expecting Katniss. He feels like they’ve really grown closer over the past few weeks. She’s a regular part of his routine with the store now and he can’t imagine going back to the way it used to be, back when she wasn't a part of his life. 

Peeta is pulled out of his reverie by the sight of Katniss standing directly in front of him. He grins at her. “Hi,” he says. 

“It’s really coming along,” she says, referring to the bike. 

Peeta smiles. “It is. Thanks to you for finding the bargain of the century at that estate sale.”

Katniss scoffs. “You found it, all I did was offer to take it off their hands,” she says. "I wouldn't normally offer to pay for trash, but since you wanted it," she teases him. 

"It wasn't trash!" he says, with fake indignation before they both burst out laughing. 

She’s holding a bunch of yellow flowers in her hands and it’s as if she suddenly remembers this because she thrusts her hands out at him and says, “These are for you.”

“Really? Thank you,” Peeta says, wiping his hands on his pants as he stands and takes the bunch of dandelions from her hands. “What’s the occasion?” he says as he turns to walk to the kitchenette area to retrieve a plastic cup to use as a vase. 

“Nothing. I thought they’d brighten up the place,” Katniss says. When Peeta turns back, placing the cup of dandelions on the counter he sees that she’s pulling on the end of her braid. 

“Well, they certainly do that,” Peeta admits. He tries to swallow down any disappointment he feels about hoping she would say something more personal. He stands there for a minute, watching her pull on her braid and then turns, walking back over to put away the tools he had been using to work on the bike. 

He’s bent over gathering some nuts and bolts from the ground when he hears her speak again. 

“Peeta?” she squeaks. It’s so unlike her to sound so nervous that he immediately turns back toward her, his eyebrows raised slightly in question. 

“Could I ask you a favor? Not a favor really, just a question. Well, maybe you’d consider it a favor, I don’t know,” Katniss is rambling now.

“Anything,” he says, smiling at her as he stands. 

“Well you see, my sister Prim is going to the spring formal at her school. I agreed to go as a chaperone. And I wondered…well, would you like to go with me?” she sort of rushes out the last part in one breath. 

Peeta's smile begins to broaden and then stops. As much as he’s over the moon that Katniss has just asked him to attend Prim’s spring formal with her, and as much as he’d love to go, he needs to get something off his chest. He can’t keep the secret about the Mockingjay pin any longer, especially if they are going to take this next step in their friendship…or what Peeta hopes may turn in to some sort of relationship. He needs to tell her about the pin and, yeah, he really needs to tell her how he feels about her. 

So he takes a deep breath and responds, “I’d love to…but there’s something I need to tell you. Are you free for dinner tomorrow night at my place?”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Happy Thursday. I promise you won't have to wait too long for the next chapter, either, which I think you'll appreciate after you read this. ;-)
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and thank you for all the comments! I'm blown away by your feedback. I really appreciate it!!  
> \---------------------

Peeta is overjoyed that Katniss has agreed to let him make her dinner tonight…until he remembers why they’re having dinner in the first place. He wants to take the easy way out; he’d love to just continue building their relationship and hopefully eventually turn it into something more. But he knows he has to come clean. He vows that he won’t let her leave tonight without admitting that he never intended to sell the Mockingjay pin and that a big part of the reason is because he has feelings for her that go beyond friendship.

His plan is to make sure the dinner itself isn’t completely over the top. What he intends to tell Katniss will be overwhelming enough and he doesn’t want to put her on edge before he even begins. Since it’s Saturday, he heads to the farmer’s market for some fresh vegetables. 

On the way home he stops by the bakery, deciding to pick up some dessert rather than make his own. He still has to get to the store, and make the dough for the homemade pizzas he has planned for dinner, plus clean up a little bit at home, so some cookies from Mellark’s seems like the solution to dessert.  
His Dad is surprised to see him this late on a Saturday morning. It’s already 9:00 and Peeta is usually at his own store by now, although it doesn’t open until 10:00 am. 

“What brings you by son?” his Dad asks, giving Peeta a big smile. When Peeta moves behind the counter, his Dad claps him on the back in a brief hug. 

“Hi Dad,” says Peeta. “Just thought I’d pick up some fresh cookies for tonight. Do you have any of the ginger ones baked yet?”

“Probably so, but you’ll have to check with Rye in the back,” his Dad replies. “What’s the occasion? Having some friends over?”

“A friend, yes,” Peeta says, and he can feel his cheeks beginning to flush. He’s not ready to discuss his dinner with Katniss. Really, he’s not ready to discuss Katniss with his family at all. Not until he makes his confession and knows where they stand. Unfortunately, Rye walks into the storefront just as Peeta is responding to his Dad. 

“A friend, huh?” Rye teases. “It wouldn’t be a certain ‘friend’ named Katniss, would it?” Rye emphasizes the word friend in a sarcastic tone, indicating that Katniss is anything but. 

Peeta sighs loudly, turning to Rye. “Yeah, Rye, it is Katniss. It’s no big deal, okay?”

“Sure it isn’t, Peet. You just keep telling yourself that,” Rye says. He finishes unloading the tray he was carrying and lays it on the countertop, crossing his arms and smirking at Peeta. 

Peeta’s Dad asks, “Is Katniss the girl helping out at your store now?” 

“Yes, that’s her,” Peeta answers, but Rye makes a whistling noise that seems to say there’s more. 

“What are you making her?” Rye asks. “Your famous chicken cordon bleu?” 

Peeta shakes his head. “No, homemade pizzas,” he says. 

Rye scoffs. “Are you trying to impress her or just be best buddies with her? Geez Peeta, and we always say you are the romantic one.” 

“I need to get going if I’m going to open the store on time,” Peeta says, ignoring Rye. 

“Rye, Peeta came for ginger cookies. Do you have any ready in the back?” his Dad asks. 

“You’re not even making her dessert yourself?” Rye asks Peeta incredulously. “That’s your sure thing. Tell me what I’m missing here. This is so unlike you,” Rye rattles on as he moves to walk back to the kitchen. Peeta follows. 

“Here, some just came out of the oven,” Rye says, boxing them up for Peeta. He seems to realize that Peeta is not going to respond to all his teasing, so he leaves it alone. “Tell me, why ginger cookies, specifically? That her favorite?”

“Not exactly,” Peeta says, sheepishly. “I just figured…ginger is supposed to settle the stomach…and I have some pretty unsettling information to tell her, so…”

Rye laughs, clapping Peeta on the back. “Good luck baby brother. You’re a braver man than I. That girl looks like she could shoot an arrow through your heart.” He’s still chuckling to himself when Peeta leaves the kitchen. Peeta waves to his Dad on the way out of the bakery and heads to Blue Sky Mercantile to open for the Saturday rush. 

….

Katniss has been out at the yard sales all morning procuring items. She shows up around 1:00 with a handful of goods, but not as much as she normally finds. 

“Slow day?” Peeta asks, nodding at the small gathering of items she’s unloaded on top of the back counter. 

“Yeah,” says Katniss. “The sales are starting to pick up with the warmer weather, but there just wasn’t much of interest today.”

“That’s how it goes sometimes,” Peeta agrees. 

She smiles at him and returns to sorting the new items. 

“So dinner tonight…” Peeta says. “Is 7:00 too late? I need to keep the store open until 6:00.”

“No, that’s good,” Katniss says, looking up again with a smile. “What can I bring?” she asks. 

“Just yourself,” Peeta replies. When Katniss glances up again she blushes a rosy pink. Peeta is staring at her intently again; she has no idea what he’s thinking.  
….

Peeta hardly has time to be nervous about the upcoming conversation with Katniss. First, the store is extremely busy, even for a Saturday. He guesses it’s because a lot of his customers have spring fever. They seem excited to be out in the good weather and to see all the new items Katniss has procured over the past several weeks. Around 5:00 it slows down considerably, and by 5:45 he’s cleaning up and preparing to close for the day. 

He’s glad he drove the truck today because he’ll get home much faster, although he really had no choice given that he still has a boot on his left foot. Luckily that is coming off in less than two weeks. He’s looking forward to riding his bike to work again. 

As soon as he gets home he mixes up the dough for the pizzas and sets it aside to rise. Then he wipes down the counters in the kitchen and starts the dishwasher. Finally, he runs the vacuum over the hardwood floors and the area rug in the front room. Then he jumps in the shower. He’s just throwing on some jeans when he hears a knock on the front door. 

Peeta grabs a navy blue t-shirt from his drawer and pulls it over his head as he walks to the front door. His feet are still bare from when he got out of the shower, but otherwise he’s dressed and ready just in time. 

He pulls open the door, a big smile already stretching his face just from seeing Katniss again. She’s wearing dark jeans and a hunter green tank top with a lightweight black cardigan over it. The green in her shirt makes her eyes look incredible and Peeta can’t help but remark on it immediately. 

“Thank you,” she says, slipping off her black flats as soon as she crosses the threshold of the door. His brow wrinkles in confusion when she takes off her shoes. 

“Oh you don’t have to do that,” he tells her, motioning to her shoes. “No white carpeting in here or anything.” 

She laughs nervously. “Oh I just thought maybe you have a no shoes policy” she trails off, glancing down at his bare feet. 

“Oh! Yeah, I just got out of the shower,” he laughs, mostly in disbelief that he has somehow already managed to make her uncomfortable before she’s even taken two steps inside his house. “But I don’t mind if you don’t,” he elaborates. “It’s more comfortable this way, right?” 

She smiles and nods and he can’t tell if she’s just being polite or if she agrees. 

Peeta leads her over to the kitchen where he has laid out the veggies and a cutting board. “I thought we’d make our own pizzas,” he tells her. “I wasn’t sure what kind of toppings you like.”

“It all looks good to me,” she says. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Sure,” he tells her. “You can chop up these peppers while I roll out the dough and heat up the sauce.” He pulls out a jar of homemade pizza sauce that he canned with last summer’s tomatoes. 

Katniss arches an eyebrow at the homemade jar of sauce. “Is that seriously homemade sauce, too? Is there anything you can’t do Peeta?” she asks in a teasing voice. 

“Ha, I wish,” he banters back. “Just stick around and you’ll see.”

….  
Dinner goes perfectly, with Katniss and Peeta teasing back and forth while they construct their individual pizzas and then sharing slices of their personal masterpieces with each other, along with a few beers. Peeta has never seen Katniss this relaxed and he really hates that he’s going to be the one to ruin it. But he knows he won’t feel right moving forward until he tells her about the pin. 

And it will be a huge relief to tell her how he feels because after the last few hours, he really doesn’t know if he could keep on pretending that he just wants to be friends. She’s nibbling on a ginger cookie, sitting next to him on the front porch swing, her long dark hair loose and blowing slightly in the breeze. He would love nothing more than to lean over and kiss the cookie crumbles off her lips right now. Peeta shakes his head to clear his thoughts. Now is the time, he thinks. Out with it. 

He clears his throat, trying to summon up some courage but suddenly she speaks. “So what was it you wanted to tell me?” she asks. There’s no turning back now. 

In his head, when he was rehearsing what he would say to Katniss, he planned to tell her first about his feelings and then about the pin. He was hoping that somehow it would soften the blow. But in the moment, he’s too nervous and before he knows what he’s saying he’s telling her about the pin first. 

“Katniss, I….” Peeta pulls the Mockingjay pin out of his pocket where’s he’s kept it all evening. He hands it her while he watches her face register first fondness for the item and then confusion. “I want you to have this back,” Peeta says.

“Why?” she says in a small, quiet voice.

“I only wanted to help you and I’ve been keeping it all this time, hoping to give it back to you,” Peeta explains.

He can’t really read her expression. It seems to register disbelief. Possibly she is a little bit stunned. 

“I can’t take this back, Peeta,” she says and the softness that was in her voice earlier is gone. It’s replaced with a steely resolve and a distance that he worries he’ll never be able to bridge again. “We had a deal,” she grits out. She has jumped up out of the swing and is holding the pin out toward Peeta, willing him to take it back. 

“I never intended to sell it,” he says. He reaches out, not for the pin in her outstretched hand, but for her shoulders. He feels the need to comfort her, now that tears are openly running down her face. 

She’s shaking her head back and forth and she seems, not furious, but more forlorn than he’s ever seen her. “No, no, no,” she chants softly. “You were supposed to be different. I don’t need your pity!” she spits. 

“Katniss, it’s not pity!” Peeta’s voice is rising in his despair. He wants so badly for her to understand. “The pin is special to me, too!” He tries to explain but she’s already turning to go, not listening to his explanation. She sets the pin down carefully on the small side table on his porch and he knows if he doesn’t say the right thing now he’s going to lose her. 

“Katniss I didn’t just keep the pin for you. I kept it for me, too. I kept it because I feel connected to you and I—“ he’s cut off when she turns from the bottom step and interrupts him. 

“You should have sold it Peeta!” she says through tears. “Just sell it already!” 

And then she runs. 

Peeta stands frozen on the front porch. “Why won’t you let me tell you how I feel about you?” he asks the empty night air in a whisper. Somehow she always seems to cut him off before she can hear what he needs to say. 

He debates going after her but ultimately decides to give her some space. He guesses it wouldn’t have made much of a difference, if he had been able to tell her about his feelings, though. He’s ruined everything now.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, another quick chapter. This is short, but I hope that it gives you some glimmer of hope for Everlark. :)  
> Have a great weekend!

Peeta spends the rest of Saturday night and all of Sunday trying to figure out how he can make things right again. He wishes Katniss understood that the Mockingjay pin means so much more to him now than just a resale item. It’s her family heirloom, but to him it’s become a symbol of hope. His entire life has been brighter since the day Katniss came into his store with the pin, and he only hopes he’ll have the chance to talk to her again so he can tell her how he feels. 

He wanted to give her some space, so he didn’t try to contact her over the weekend, but he decides that he will give her a call Monday evening and try to make things right. He assumes she won’t show up to work at the store on Monday like she normally would. Not after Saturday night. 

But he’s wrong, because just after lunch on Monday she comes walking in with her bag slung over her shoulder. She sets down the two candlestick holders she’s carrying and then starts to unload her bag. 

“I found these when I was out yesterday,” Katniss says by way of explanation. She doesn’t look at Peeta, but she’s directing her words at him. There aren’t normally any yard sales on a Monday morning, so it makes sense to Peeta that she got the items yesterday. 

Peeta walks over to the counter tentatively and begins to sort through the items. “You should have borrowed the truck,” he says softly. He’s very wary after the way they left things Saturday night. 

“I was already out walking,” Katniss says. She still hasn’t looked at him even once. “I just happened upon the sale. It’s no big deal.” 

“Well, thanks,” Peeta says. He wants to say more and he takes a deep breath, gearing up to do so, but Katniss beats him to it. 

“Peeta, I’ll have the $1000 back to you as soon as I can,” she says, finally raising her eyes to his. “You can hold the Mockingjay pin for me until then.” Peeta stares at her with his mouth open. He sees in her face that she not necessarily angry, but she is resolved. He has to fix this misunderstanding. 

“I don’t want you to buy back the pin,” he tells her honestly. He’s going to tell her that he wants to keep the pin for himself, but she’s fisting her hands in frustration and walking away. She heads directly to the case where he normally keeps the Mockingjay pin. Peeta sighs. 

Katniss is peering into the display case. “It’s not in the case,” she says. “Are you keeping it at home?”

And then Peeta does something that every mother and preacher from one end of the earth to the other has warned children about for ages: he makes it worse by adding a white lie. 

“It’s not in the case because it sold,” he says. Katniss lets out a little gasp and when he comes to stand beside her she looks as if all the air has been knocked out of her. 

“When?”she says, barely audible. “This morning?”

Peeta ignores her question, wise enough at least not to dig the hole any further. “So you don’t need to pay me back, you see?” Peeta tells her. 

“I see,” she says, backing away from the display case. She swallows hard and goes back to the counter to gather her things. “Peeta I have to go. I’m late to meet Prim,” she says in a very nonchalant voice that Peeta suspects is entirely fake. She seems so shaken since he told her the pin was sold. Isn’t that what she said she wanted? Peeta thinks to himself. If she seemed angry that he had kept the pin on purpose, now she seems simply distraught that it might be lost forever. 

“Katniss,” Peeta says, walking up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. He hopes he’s not overstepping his boundaries, but he wants to explain before she gets any more upset. He wants to tell her that he twisted the words. In reality, he only sold the pin to himself. 

“Katniss,” he says again but she shrugs him off, despondent. 

“You’ll still meet me at the dance Friday night, yeah?” she asks and she sounds like she’s ready to burst into tears again. 

“If you still want me too,” Peeta says, his voice full of concern. She sniffs. “Of course I do. We’re still friends, right?” She looks him in the eye one last time and he can see the unshed tears in hers. Her voice is wavering but full of courage. “Thanks again for agreeing to sell the Mockingjay pin,” she says. Then she turns and runs out the door. 

“Katniss,” Peeta calls after her, but she’s already gone. That’s okay, he thinks. He’ll tell her that he sold the pin to himself when he sees her at the spring formal. And he’ll finally tell her how he feels. He’ll tell her everything then. Yes, Peeta has a plan and it just might work.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, here it is--what you've been waiting for. I hope this lives up to expectations. :-)
> 
> \------------

Peeta has just finished opening up the store on Tuesday morning when he sees a new text message from Katniss. 

“Would it be okay if I take a few days off? Her text reads. 

Peeta sighs. He had a feeling she might try to distance herself now. He has to give her credit for showing up at all yesterday to confront him about giving him back the money for the pin. But then when he told her that the pin had sold, it was like she crumbled under the weight of the news. At any rate, it might actually help his plan if he doesn’t have to interact with Katniss this week. He’s not sure if he could keep on seeing her acting so miserable over the pin when he knows it’s still safely tucked in his pocket. 

“That’s more than fine. I’ll see you Friday night then?” Peeta responds on text. He knows he’s being insecure, but his plan hinges on being able to see her at the spring formal and at this rate he’s worried that she will back out on her invitation as well. 

“Sure. Panem High. 7:00” she responds.

“Want to grab something to eat before?” Peeta shoots back.

“I can’t.” she texts back. 

There’s no other explanation, but Peeta guesses that she can’t stand to be around him any more than necessary. He’s honestly perplexed at why she even still wants him to attend the formal with her. Maybe she already committed to bringing an extra chaperone and she can’t find a replacement, he thinks. 

“Ok. I’ll meet you at Panem High.” He sends back. She doesn’t respond any more after that.  
…

Peeta spends most of the morning on his computer, crafting a message to some of his best buyers, both local and some who only drive in once every few months to see what he has in stock. He glances over to the vintage bike he had recently restored thanks to Katniss’ amazing bargaining skills at the auction they attended together. With each personalized email, he attaches photos of the bike.

In the past, some of his buyers have asked over and over again if the bike that is already hanging in his shop is for sale, and Peeta has always turned them down. That bike was one of his very first finds and it has always held sentimental value. Katniss was right—he does have a thing for old bicycles. 

Now with this new bike from the recent auction, thanks to Katniss, he was planning to add to his collection. He envisioned displaying it over near the seating area by the bakery case. Eventually he’d collect other bicycles, or bicycle parts, he thought, and it could be his trademark. He even envisioned hanging them from the ceiling of the store, for a unique effect. 

But now he has a better idea. It is, after all, technically Katniss’ bike since she bargained for it. Surely one of his buyers will be interested. Yes, his plan just might work.  
…

It’s been a sunny, warm and typical late spring day — perfect for a spring formal. Peeta locks up the store early, whistling as he carries his laptop and the small package from the florist that he picked up at lunchtime. He hops into the truck and heads home to shower and get ready. Despite the beautiful weather, and his outward show of optimism, inside Peeta knows that he is still a long way from winning Katniss over. He really hopes he is able to explain himself tonight and win back her trust…and hopefully more. 

He dresses in a light gray suit — the only one he owns, actually — and carefully styles his hair. Nodding at his reflection he says aloud, “You can do this. Just be honest.” He takes a deep breath and leaves for the short drive to the high school.  
….

Strands of twinkle lights hanging in the school gym spill their glow out into the warm, early evening air. It isn’t dark yet, so Peeta can make out the pairs of teenagers — a rainbow of pastel dresses and suits all streaming toward the open double doors. He doesn’t see Katniss, but she’s likely already inside. 

As soon as he steps inside he can see that the theme of the formal has something to do with the moon. Black as night cloth has been tacked up all over the ceiling and the walls and covered in silvery glitter along with glow in the dark stars. Twinkle lights are strung across the room and around centerpieces at each table. Above the dance floor a large cut out of a bright yellow half moon takes center stage. “Over the Moon,” it reads. The entire effect is quite nice—much nicer than his own spring formal years ago, when the theme was “Under the Sea” but looked more like something out of a preschool Finding Nemo party. 

Just in front of him is a check-in table, so Peeta steps up and gives his name, telling them he’s a chaperone here with Katniss Everdeen. The teacher, or volunteer — he isn’t sure — smiles sweetly at him. “Oh, yes! It’s nice to meet you Peeta. Prim said that her sister was bringing her boyfriend to the dance. It’s so nice of you to help out with chaperoning tonight!” she says. 

Peeta can feel himself blushing, but he doesn’t correct the woman. “No problem,” he simply says. “I’m happy to be here. Can you tell me if you’ve seen Katniss?”

The woman turns, pointing toward the far left corner of the gym. “She’s right over there, dear.” 

For a moment, Peeta feels like all the breath has been sucked out of him. Katniss is ethereal in a sunset orange dress that floats over her body and ends just above her knees. Her inky black hair flows in loose waves over her bare shoulders and her diamond-like eyes sparkle so that they rival the twinkling lights surrounding her. She’s simply gorgeous. 

Someone jostles Peeta from behind, murmuring an apology, and it’s only now that he realizes he is standing stock still in the middle of the gym staring at Katniss. She has noticed, too, apparently, because she’s looking at him shyly and when he finally walks over, he sees that her cheeks are a deep shade of red. 

“You made it,” she says. 

“I’ve been looking forward to it,” Peeta says, giving her a small smile. “You look…you’re breathtaking,” he adds, and then winces because that was probably too much, too soon. The last thing he wants to do is run her off before the night has even begun. 

“Thanks,” she replies, so quietly he almost doesn’t hear it. “You look nice, too.” She glances at him briefly and gives him the tiniest smile. It’s enough, though, to fuel Peeta’s confidence. Maybe this will all work out. 

…  
Katniss and Peeta are stationed at the refreshment table, where a teacher has already laid out bowls of chips and popcorn, along with plates of cookies and large pitchers of fruit punch and lemonade. 

“So your main job is to make sure they don’t make a complete mess,” the teacher explains to Katniss and Peeta. “Keep them from throwing food, wipe up any spills, and refill the chip bowls when needed.”

“We’ve got this,” Peeta says, giving the teacher one of his winning smiles. Katniss nods in agreement. 

“Okay, then, I’ll leave you two to it,” the teacher says. “And don’t be afraid to have a little fun yourselves. These kids can certainly help themselves to snacks while you have a dance or two. I’d hate for you to waste a nice date night.” She winks at them and then walks away. 

Katniss turns away from Peeta and immediately begins rummaging in the boxes loaded with extra chips and cookies that are stacked behind them, even though the bowls on the table are already completely full. Peeta clears his throat and starts to say something, but he can see that the side of her face is flaming red. Maybe he’ll just give it a minute. 

Just then a few of the teenagers walk over and ask about getting some refreshments. “Yes, just help yourself and let us know if you need anything,” Peeta says congenially. 

“Thanks,” the girls reply. They take paper bowls and fill them with popcorn and each pour themselves a fruit punch into a small paper cup. After they walk away Peeta turns to Katniss, who has now composed herself and is standing off to his side, watching the ever-growing group of kids out on the dance floor. He smiles at her, but either she doesn’t notice or she’s ignoring him. So Peeta turns to face forward again, watching as more of the teens pour into the gym as the spring formal truly gets underway. 

Peeta watches as a petite blond wearing a sky blue, floor length gown walks toward the refreshment table with a sense of purpose. Her face is lit up in a beaming smile and the curls framing her up-do hairstyle bounce along the side of her angelic face as she approaches. 

When she reaches Peeta she sticks out her hand, offering it to him. “You must be Peeta!” she exclaims. “I’m so happy that you came!”  
Peeta is nodding mutely at the girl, unsure of exactly what is happening. He throws a sidelong glance at Katniss, who is standing with her arms crossed over her chest, watching. 

“I’m Prim, Katniss’ sister,” the blond girl tells him. “I was hoping she would introduce us tonight since you’re all she ever talks about.”

“Hello,” Peeta says, smiling at her and taking her hand and giving it a polite shake. 

Peeta hears Katniss let out a huff of air before stepping forward and grabbing hold of Prim’s arm. “Prim, can I talk to you for a minute? “ Katniss says, her voice sounding tense. 

“Sure. In a minute,” Prim says, her eyes still glued to Peeta. “I want to talk to Peeta first.”

But Katniss has already walked around the table and has Prim firmly by the arm. “Now,” she insists. “There’s something wrong with your dress and we need to fix it in the restroom now.”

Prim cranes her neck awkwardly trying to view the back of her long gown to see what could possibly be wrong with her dress. Peeta can’t see any problem from where he stands, but Katniss seems bent on getting Prim away to fix it right away, whatever the problem may be. 

Prim turns slightly pink and apologizes to Peeta. “I’ll be right back,” she says. “Don’t go away. I want to hear all about your ‘Mercantile’ and these cheese buns that my sister can’t seem to get enough of—oomph!“ Prim is cut off abruptly when Katniss gives her a giant tug that causes her to teeter on her high heels. “Be right back,” Prim says again. 

The two sisters head for the opposite side of the gym to the restroom, leaving Peeta perplexed. To pass the time he begins straightening the napkins, although they really don’t need any straightening at all. 

….

When Katniss comes back from the restroom she is alone. 

“Prim said to tell you it was nice to meet you,” she says to Peeta. “She went to catch up with her friends.”

“Oh, well, same to her as well,” Peeta says, giving Katniss a smile. Katniss only nods. 

About an hour later, there have only been a handful of kids at the refreshment table. Peeta and Katniss stand in almost complete silence, only exchanging a handful of words about the decorations or a particular song they both like. 

When a slow song begins to play, Peeta watches as all the teens pair up to dance. From the corner of his eye he sees that Katniss has started to sway gently to the tune. She’s not exactly dancing, but she seems to be enjoying the music. Then she starts to sing. 

She’s so quiet that Peeta doesn’t know if she even realizes she’s singing out loud. Her voice is beautiful and Peeta stands mesmerized as she softly finishes out a verse. Suddenly she startles, realizing that Peeta is watching her, and she clamps her mouth shut, reaching up to twist one curl of her hair between her fingers. 

“Don’t stop,” Peeta says softly, drawing nearer to her side. “Your voice is wonderful.”

Katniss flushes but she does not start singing again. Peeta swallows hard. In his pocket, his fingers brush over the Mockingjay pin as he gathers his strength. Surely she won’t refuse him one dance. He turns to her and catches her eye. 

“Katniss, would dance with me?” he asks. 

He catches the sides of her mouth as they just barely lift before she schools her lips back into a line. “I’ll allow it,” she says.

Peeta releases the breath he was holding and he feels his face break into one of those smiles he just can’t seem to contain around her. He holds out his hand to take her smaller one and together they make their way onto the dance floor. 

The slow song playing ends after only a few moments but another slow song begins and Peeta places his hands at Katniss’ waist while she carefully places her own hands on his shoulders. It feels like there is a giant chasm between them. Over Katniss’ shoulder he sees her sister, Prim, dancing with a young man her age. He almost laughs when Prim catches his eye and gives him a thumbs up. 

Slowly, Peeta and Katniss move to the music, the space between them growing smaller with every turn they make. The music seems to relax them both, and soon Katniss is laying her head against his shoulder. He smiles down into the crown of her head, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. By the time the song is halfway over, they’ve fallen into an easy rhythm; one that Peeta wishes would never end. 

He takes a deep breath. It’s now or never, he thinks.

“Katniss,” he murmurs into the top of her head. 

“Mmmhmmm,” she responds without looking up. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with the Mockingjay pin being sold?” Peeta asks, his voice cracking out of sheer nervousness at the conversation he just opened. 

That does it; she pulls back from him slightly and looks up, her trademark scowl on her face. In a split second her scowl morphs to something less angry and more resigned. “Yes, it’s what I wanted,” she says, sighing heavily. She drops her head back down to his shoulder and he thinks she is done speaking. But then she says in a small voice, “I was mad at you when you told me that you had been keeping it and that you never intended to sell it. But Prim said…she helped me realize that you were just trying to protect me.”

“And now that it has sold?” Peeta prompts, urging her to continue. He has to know how she really feels before he reveals what he has done. 

“Now that it has actually sold, I guess I feel even worse. I was mad that you kept it all that time, but I didn’t realize it would feel this awful when it was truly gone.” She lifts her head up again to look at him and he can see the tears glistening in her eyes. He can’t stand to see her in this much pain. He has to tell her now. 

He stops their movement on the dance floor and takes her hands. “Katniss, I never finished telling you everything that night at dinner,” Peeta says. “There’s more. It’s true that I never intended to sell the pin. But there’s more.” He’s shaking as he pulls out the pin from his pocket and holds it out for her to see. 

He continues while she stares at the pin in his hand wide-eyed. “And the reason the pin wasn’t in the store the other day is because someone did buy it: I did. I bought it for the woman I’m falling in love with.” Immediately he feels her hands tense in his and he rushes to get the next part out before she shuts down. “I’ve been a little in love with you since the first moment I ever saw you. And the more I’ve gotten to know you, the more I just am.” 

Tears have spilled down her cheeks now and she struggles to pull her hands out of his, but he holds her tight. He knows her well enough to know she just wants to run away from what’s happening, but he isn’t finished. “Wait, please,” he says, searching her eyes. “There’s more. I was wrong to think I could just give you the money and keep the pin and then expect you to take it back. You’re much too resilient for that. I knew you’d want to buy it back fair and square, so I found a buyer for the bike you bought at the auction last month.” 

Katniss stills and looks up into his eyes at this news. Peeta goes on, “You paid less than $15 for the bike and I restored it and sold it for $1500, which is more than enough for the pin. “ Her eyes are filled with fresh tears again but she’s no longer trying to escape his grasp. “Katniss, I knew it was a long shot and I hope you can forgive me for deceiving you, but Katniss this pin belongs with you. It should stay in your family forever. You’re so strong and loyal and every day that I had it with me it brought me hope and it made me feel closer to you….”

He’s cut off from saying anything more when he feels her lips crash into his own.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for waiting so patiently for this last chapter! I sincerely hope it is a satisfying end to this story. I wanted there to be a T element, because really, what is the point of K & P getting together otherwise. ha ha. However, I do have a professional appearance to maintain, and I am always mindful that someone I work with may run across this online. So..hoping you can use your imagination and enjoy. I had so much fun writing this story, which came to me as an idea bc my own personal irl "Peeta" has always wanted to open a vintage store at this particular little run down building we pass, which sits just on the edge of a biking trail. However, I will admit, that when I write my stories, I never plan ahead, so I never know exactly what will happen and the way the story turns out is just as much a surprise to me as anyone. I have another story on my mind, so I'll probably be putting that up sometime early summer. Thanks everyone for all the kind messages and for reading. As always, this has not been edited, so feel free to point out any glaring errors I might fix. Otherwise, please ignore any typos or mistakes. XO  
> \-------------------

3 months later

Peeta backs his truck right up to the front door of the store, parking it directly next to the bakery truck already there. The bells on the front door jingle when he swings it open and both Katniss and Rye look over at him from where they stand near the bakery case. 

“Back already baby brother?” Rye asks, straightening after he places the last apple tart into the bakery case. 

“Yeah, but only because I ran out of room in the truck,” Peeta answers as he makes his way over to Katniss. He gives her a quick kiss on the cheek and wraps on arm around her waist. “I missed you,” he says quietly to Katniss. 

“Good morning,” she says, returning his warm smile. 

“Wait until you see what I found,” Peeta tells Rye and Katniss, gesturing toward the truck outside. 

Rye picks up the other empty tray that he had laid across the top of the counter and follows Peeta and Katniss out the front door. While Rye deposits the bakery trays back into the bakery truck, Peeta opens up the tailgate to reveal the half dozen 19th-century school desks he purchased early that morning at an auction. 

“Nice….” Katniss remarks, taking Peeta’s offered hand and climbing up into the bed of the truck. She steps over the side of the first overturned desk and gently lifts it as Peeta takes the other side. “How many are there in all?” she asks. 

“Six,” Peeta says. “Rye, help me load these into the back part of the store. I want to clean them up a bit before we put them out on display.”

“These will probably sell best in pairs,” Katniss says, turning to help maneuver another of the small desks toward the end of the truck for unloading. 

“That’s what I was thinking,” Peeta replies, beaming up at her. 

They stay that way, eyes locked on one another and smiles about to break their faces in two, for a long moment until Rye clears his throat loudly. “Can you two hold your mutual admiration club later today? I don’t have all day to unload these things—I need to get back to the bakery,” he says. 

Katniss blushes and goes back to moving the desks toward the end of the truck while Peeta rolls his eyes at Rye. “You’re just jealous because my girlfriend is beautiful AND a genius,” Peeta says, turning to slap Rye on the back. 

“It’s true she’s done wonders for your business,” Rye tells Peeta, taking one of the desks Peeta has lifted down from the truck and turning to head into the store. “And she is quite attractive, which is why no one can figure out what she’s doing with you,” he finishes, throwing Peeta a wicked smirk over his shoulder before disappearing inside. 

Peeta laughs at Rye’s jab, turning back to look up at Katniss standing in the bed of the truck. “I’m still trying to figure that out myself,” he says, smiling softly up at her. 

…

The mid-century modern wall clock strikes three o’clock as Katniss slings her bag over her shoulder and gives Peeta a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later,” she says. “I’ll bring the drinks.”

“Sounds good,” Peeta says, smiling at her. “Bring a sweater, too, just in case it gets chilly.” She smiles and nods at him before she heads out the door. Peeta goes back to the accounting he is working on at the counter. It’s a slow time of day, but he likes to stay open until five, in case the odd customer happens to come by in the afternoon. 

Later, after he locks up the store, he heads home on the bike trail, the late afternoon sun still fairly hot on the back of his neck. Peeta glances out toward the tree line at the edge of the small woods, admiring how the sun glints off the thick, green foliage. It won’t be long until the leaves begin to turn yellow, orange and red again. But for now, it’s still warm and the clear September day is fading into a spectacular late summer evening. 

….  
Peeta has time for a quick shower at his house before he packs up the chicken salad he made early this morning, along with flakey homemade crescent rolls, sliced strawberries, and double chocolate cookies. He grabs an old quilt from a closet and picks up the cooler packed with the light supper before he heads out on foot. 

It’s further to the meadow from Katniss’ house than it is from Peeta’s, but she insisted she didn’t mind the long walk. Besides there won’t be many more evenings like this, with the weather just perfect for spending time outside. When Peeta arrives at the meadow he looks for Katniss by their favorite tree, but she hasn’t yet arrived. He lays out the quilt and places the cooler of food in the center, then he wanders to a nearby clump of dandelions and begins picking a handful of them.  
When he looks up he sees Katniss coming across the field, and his face lights up in a huge smile. She’s rolled up jeans and a navy tank top. A light sweater is tied around her waist and she’s swinging a small canvas bag as she walks. She lifts her hand and waves and Peeta goes to meet her at the quilt. 

“Hi,” she greets, placing her bag on the ground next the cooler. 

“Hi,” Peeta returns, grabbing her hips and pulling her to him for a kiss. At first he had been shy about kissing her, wondering if he was pushing her too fast or wanting too much, too often. But lately he feels a surge of confidence in their relationship. Katniss is still naturally quiet, but she is completely at ease with him now and she lets him know in her own way that she truly wants to be with him. 

When they separate she bends to open her canvas bag, pulling out several bottled beers and a bottle opener. She hands two up to Peeta, along with the opener, and then goes about opening his cooler to place the remaining two beers inside. 

“Fat Tire—My favorite. You remembered” Peeta remarks, pulling the lid off the first beer and handing it back to Katniss where she sits cross-legged on the quilt. 

She smiles up at him. “I remember everything about you,” she says. 

Peeta joins her on the quilt and begins unpacking the food. He places it all on a single plate in the center of the quilt and they dig in, sharing it all. 

“So,” Peeta says, “Have you talked to Prim yet? How is she liking her classes?”

“Good! She called me last night, actually,” Katniss replies. “She’s joining a photography club on campus. Her biology professor is her favorite. Her roommate is from Louisiana and very nice.” 

“So college life is treating her well, then,” Peeta chuckles. “That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah, she seems to be settling in,” Katniss says wistfully, perhaps missing her sister. “I made her promise to come home at least one weekend a month, though.” She gives a small laugh, and then, and when she speaks again her voice is lighter. “I’m just glad we were able to get enough student loans to cover what the scholarship didn’t. It’s like a dream from true for her to be able to go to college. She’s going to make an amazing doctor.”

Peeta smiles warmly at Katniss. He loves the way she lights up whenever she speaks of Prim. 

“And what about you?” he asks. “What are your dreams?”

“I might go back,” she says, unsure. “I thought about re-applying to the university over at Capitol City. So I could commute.”

“Botany? Right?” Peeta asks, vaguely recalling one of their very first conversations when she told him she had dropped out of school to care for her mother and sister. 

“Well…” Katniss looks down and begins plucking blades of grass from the ground. “Maybe. I was also thinking I might look into studying business marketing. You know, since I’ve been working at the store…I never imagined I’d be good at something like that, but I like it.” She glances up at Peeta shyly. 

“You are extremely good at it,” Peeta tells her sincerely. “I’m not sure how I was staying in business without you.” He takes her hand in his, effectively ending her nervous pulling on the grass. She is looking out over the meadow, not meeting his eye. “Hey,” he says, giving her hand a squeeze. 

She turns her gaze to his and he smiles. “You’ll be amazing at whatever you decide to do,” he tells her. 

Katniss gives him a grateful smile. “You’re the only reason I can even be talking about going back to school,” she begins. Peeta is shaking his head, disagreeing. “No, it’s true,” she continues. “You’ve given me hope for the future…not just with the job at the store, but you believed in me when no one else did. I was just barely hanging on and I didn’t know where I was going with my life, but now….” Her voice just barely cracks. 

Peeta looks deeply into the depths of her shimmering, gray eyes. How did she become his whole world so quickly? He truly can’t imagine life without her now. 

She gives his hands a quick squeeze and her face quickly breaks into a wide grin. “Maybe I can combine the two, somehow. Botany and Business. What do you think about me building a little plant store, right next to the Mercantile?” she teases. 

“I think I’ll have to stock up on vintage flower pots,” Peeta says, reaching out to grab and tickle her. She lets out a peal of laughter, right before she launches at him, tackling him down on to the blanket. 

….

The sun has just set when they pack up their cooler and blanket and start back across the field to the walking path. Peeta will offer to walk Katniss home, of course, but he wishes the evening didn’t ever have to end. 

He glances over at Katniss, the light evening breeze just barely lifting the tiny hairs that have escaped her ponytail. There is a gentle, serene smile on her face and if he didn’t know any better, Peeta would think he had dreamed her up; conjured her out of one of his paintings. She so beautiful, inside and out. 

“I wish I could freeze this moment,” he says, and Katniss lifts her eyes up to him, pausing in her steps. “I just don’t want this night to end,” he admits. 

“I know what you mean,” she replies softly. Peeta reaches out, tucks a hair behind her ear and cradles her face in his hand for a moment. It is as if they come to an unspoken agreement then. When they begin to walk again, they head toward Peeta’s house instead. 

…..

During their short stroll to Peeta’s nearby house, the air between them is charged with a new kind of electricity. The stars twinkle above in the clear sky and the wind begins to pick up slightly. Katniss and Peeta barely speak as they make their way down the path, but their body language speaks volumes. 

Peeta leaves the mostly empty cooler outside on the front porch, unlocking the front door and letting Katniss inside. They stand staring at each other just inside the front door until Peeta finally speaks. 

“Do you want another drink?” he says, his voice quiet and his eyes never leaving hers. He takes a step closer to her and their breath mingles in the small space left between them. 

Her head barely shakes from side to side. No. She isn’t thirsty; but she is hungry for something. 

Peeta reaches up, gently pulling the tie from her ponytail and watching, seemingly mesmerized as her hair unfurls to her shoulders. He tangles his fingers into her dark hair, framing her face with his hands as he backs her up against the closest wall. “Katniss,” he says, and it is like a plea and a prayer all in the same breath. 

“Peeta,” she says, and there is more than his name in her answer. There’s no time for anything more, anyway, because he’s pulling her top lip between his own. 

The kiss is gentle and slow, exploring. Katniss wraps her hands up and around Peeta’s neck, tangling her own hands in the curls at the base of his neck. He unties her sweater and tosses it onto the couch in one smooth movement, his hands trailing up and under her tank top, drawing soft circles on her heated skin. When he deepens the kiss even further, she moves her hands to his chest and begins to undo the buttons on his shirt. 

Peeta breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against hers, catching is breath. He’s searching her eyes and when he finds what he’s looking for, he slightly and scoops her up, his arms secure around her. She wraps her legs around his waist and begins a trail of kisses up the side of his neck as he carries her from the front room back to his bedroom. Although she has been in Peeta’s house many times before, Katniss knows that tonight will be the first time she doesn’t leave before morning. 

….


End file.
